He went back to the conn.
‘What’s happening to the weather now?’ he said.
‘Wind has been dropping the past hour,’ said the young German.
‘Like to be a little closer, to get all the protection we can from the island,’ said Richardson reflectively. He turned as the Lorensen brothers came on deck, to change the watch.
‘Let’s raise the main staysail, to get what wind there is to take us nearer …’
He looked out at the hardly moving sea.
‘Another hour and there won’t be any wind at all,’ he said, staring back at the sails. Already the upper and lower fore-topsails were sagging and the jib was empty.
‘What are we making?’ he asked Goodschall.
‘Little more than three or four knots,’ judged the helmsman. ‘It’s come right down. During the night, we were managing an almost constant eight or nine.’
Once they were near the protection of Santa Maria, it would be a welcome change, thought Richardson. There was still cloud around the island, which was to be expected. But it was breaking up fairly swiftly over the water; near the horizon there was actually more blue sky than cumulus. It gave an odd effect, like a child’s drawing.
Briggs was aloft by seven, brought on deck as much by his decision about the holds as by the changed weather conditions.
‘At last,’ said Richardson gratefully, as the captain joined him.
‘Don’t think I’ll ever be surprised how quickly things can alter at sea,’ said Briggs. The weather meant there was no longer any danger. There was almost a physical feeling, like the easing of a weight upon him, at the realisation.
‘I raised the main staysail,’ said Richardson. ‘To get us as near as possible.’
Briggs nodded approval at the rigging.
‘Aye,’ he said, looking out to sea. There was little more than a swell running and the Mary Celeste rose and fell upon it, scarcely making any way.
‘Don’t think it’s going to achieve much,’ he said.
‘Knew it would improve, at the island. But I didn’t expect this,’ said Richardson.
‘Nor I,’ said Briggs. ‘Particularly after the thunder during the night. Thought at one time we were sailing right into it.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Richardson. ‘It really seemed to be building up.’
He turned to Goodschall. ‘What time did the storm pass?’ he asked casually.
‘Wind dropped maybe three hours ago,’ said the German.
‘How far away was the thunderstorm?’
The younger man frowned at the question.
‘There was a blow on,’ he said. ‘But no thunder.’
‘I heard it,’ insisted Richardson.
‘It was very loud,’ supported Briggs, suddenly concentrating upon what had begun as a half-considered conversation.
‘There was no thunder,’ repeated Goodschall. ‘Not at any time.’
For the moment the three men remained unspeaking at the conn. Then Richardson said, ‘There’s always a rumbling, before an actual explosion. It’s something like the gases all coming up to the boil.’
And Briggs remembered at last what his father had said, all those years ago.
As if on cue, like some awesome theatre, it came again, louder now than at any time before, a grumbling, belching sound from beneath them. It seemed to echo through the entire vessel and there was the impression that the timbers actually vibrated, as they would have done had they been struck repeatedly by something heavy.
At their various positions throughout the deck, everyone stopped what they were doing, straightening and then becoming motionless. Instinctively they were looking to where the captain stood, seeking guidance.
The first movement came from the deckhouse. Sarah appeared, clutching Sophia to her.
‘What was it?’ she demanded. ‘What was that peculiar noise?’
‘Dear God,’ said Richardson, distantly and to no one, ‘don’t say we’re too late.’
Knowing how little time they had, Briggs jerked forward, calling to the transfixed men around him. Probably there would never again be such a test as this of his qualities as a master-mariner, he thought.
And unless he correctly assessed the situation, there wouldn’t be the need, anyway. They were only minutes from being blown to oblivion.
The Attorney-General decided it had unquestionably been the best day since the enquiry began. He looked around the hushed chamber, contentedly aware of the effect of the expert witnesses whose affidavits he had produced.
Captain Fitzroy, master of H.M.S. Minotaur, had been the first; then Captain Adeane, commanding the Agincourt; then Captain Dowell, from the Hercules; and finally Captain Vansittart, in command of H.M.S. Sultan. There had been no challenge from any of the lawyers because the testimony had been virtually unchallengeable. One after the other the Royal Navy officers had asserted their unequivocal belief that the damage to the Mary Celeste’s bows had been caused intentionally, during some act of violence. And they had not limited themselves to the hull marks. They had identified the bloodstaining and unanimously agreed that it was an axe mark on the rail.
Flood looked away from the advocates’ bench, towards Sir James Cochrane. They had all wanted evidence and now he had produced it; he had little doubt now that the police would recommend proceedings.
There was a stir from behind and he turned to see the first mate of the Dei Gratia, Oliver Deveau, fluster into court. The man’s lack of composure was immediately obvious. His usually slicked-down hair was in disarray and even his beard was unkempt.
Pisani rose at his client’s entry, beckoning him immediately towards the witness area, turning to the judge as he did so.
‘My Lord will see,’ he said, in formal apology, ‘that we have returned from Genoa the witness whom it was desired to recall.’
‘An exercise which would have been unnecessary had the barest minimum of attention been paid to the needs of this court by the majority of participants,’ retorted Cochrane, unmollified.
The Attorney-General concealed any satisfaction at the remark. The judge had obviously been impressed by the evidence of the sea captains.
He rose, determined to attack immediately, gesturing as he did so for Baumgartner to hand the witness the evidence of the captains.
‘Having waited for so long, I’m sure the court can spare you for a little further time,’ said Flood sarcastically. ‘I would like you to read the evidence that has been produced in this court by four expert witnesses.’
Deveau took the affidavits, frowning down. He read slowly, head moving along each page, and the very silence in court was to his advantage, decided the Attorney-General. Cochrane was fidgeting in his seat by the time Deveau looked up.
‘Well?’ demanded Flood peremptorily.
‘Sir?’
‘Four experts of unchallengeable integrity have attested on oath before this enquiry that the damage they examined was the result of violence.’
‘When I first gave evidence I said I had not noticed the marks to the rail … or any bloodstaining. And I certainly didn’t see any hull damage.’
‘A point I accept, Mr Deveau,’ said Flood. ‘Isn’t the problem that you didn’t see what subsequent examination has discovered?’
‘I do not understand,’ protested the man.
‘Isn’t the fact that during the time it took you and your salvage crew to reach Gibraltar there was ample time to repair any evidence of violence … and that unfortunately you overlooked the axe mark and the bloodstaining that has been found?’
The Attorney-General had expected Deveau to be off-balanced by the questioning, following so closely upon the captains’ evidence, but the first mate merely shook his head in persistent denial.
‘I also said the first time,’ he repeated, ‘that we found no evidence of violence. Only of a ship having been abandoned for a number of days.’
Flood concealed his annoyance.
‘Why did you leave Gibraltar so hurrie
dly?’ he demanded.
Deveau frowned again. ‘There was no haste about it,’ he said. ‘The Dei Gratia had to continue to Genoa, to discharge her cargo. Captain Morehouse ordered me to go.’
‘Just as he ordered you to board the Mary Celeste?’ said Flood.
‘Yes –’
‘And seize her for salvage?’
Flood was hurrying the questioning, hoping to unsettle the man.
‘Captain Morehouse was unwilling at first for us to split the crew,’ said Deveau.
The answer was not what Flood had expected and he raised his eyes from his note, examining the witness curiously.
‘Explain yourself,’ he said.
‘When I returned from boarding the Mary Celeste I proposed we put a salvage crew aboard. Captain Morehouse said his first responsibility was to his own ship, the Dei Gratia, and that he was unhappy at the thought of reducing his crew by the number of men necessary to take over the Mary Celeste.’
‘So what happened?’
‘There was a discussion among the crew, who agreed to do extra watches.’
‘Why did they so agree?’
‘So that we could man the Mary Celeste, of course,’ said the man, surprised.
‘And in expectation of sharing in a salvage award once she was brought to port?’ demanded the Attorney-General.
‘Yes,’ said Deveau.
‘Was there a reduced crew on the Mary Celeste?’
‘Sir?’
‘Was there a reduced crew? Or is the fact of the matter that there were still some people aboard when you crossed to her?’
Deveau shook his head, a familiar gesture of bewilderment.
‘The Mary Celeste was abandoned,’ he insisted.
‘Are you an obedient seaman?’ said Flood, returning to his earlier questioning.
‘I pride myself upon being so,’ responded Deveau immediately.
‘So you would obey any command a superior officer gave you?’
‘Were it in keeping with the laws of the sea and ensuring the safety or smooth running of any vessel in which I was serving, then, yes, I would,’ said Deveau.
It could almost be construed as a prepared answer, decided Flood.
‘Did you, on December 5, receive from Captain Morehouse any order that did not comply with those restrictions?’
‘Really!’ protested Pisani, rising. ‘We are off again on the wildest flights of fancy. Can there be any point to this flagrant innuendo?’
Cochrane looked at the protesting lawyer, then to the Attorney-General:
‘Mr Flood?’
‘I would not be pursuing this or any other line of questioning if I did not consider it germane to the court’s enquiry,’ said the Attorney-General.
‘An assurance which we have received time upon time and of which we still seek proof,’ disagreed Pisani.
‘It is proof with which I am attempting to furnish this court.’
‘Of what?’ demanded the Dei Gratia attorney, in open challenge.
‘I would have thought by now that would have been obvious to everyone,’ said Flood.
‘The point of much of your questioning, Mr Flood, remains obvious only to yourself,’ said Pisani.
The Attorney-General started to retort, but the judge stopped the dispute.
‘I feel,’ he said, addressing the Attorney-General, ‘that this hearing might proceed in a more satisfactory manner if a certain propriety were maintained in the examination.’
Flood knew that Cochrane could not possibly be against him, after the evidence he had been able to produce. He decided that the judge must be satisfied. But he wasn’t, determined Flood.
‘Have you any cause to change your beliefs as to how the Mary Celeste came to be abandoned?’ he said.
‘No, sir,’ said Deveau.
‘Or of what fate befell the crew?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Against the opinions of experts you heard before you hurried away or from the affidavits you have today considered, do you have any wish to change your evidence?’
‘I have told the court everything I can to help,’ said the first mate.
‘Was the need to get the Dei Gratia to Genoa to unload its cargo of petroleum the only reason you were despatched from Gibraltar?’
Deveau regarded the Attorney-General uncertainly.
‘Yes,’ he said, the curiosity sounding in his voice. ‘What other reason could there have been?’
‘It was not perhaps thought wiser by Captain Morehouse or even by Captain Winchester for you to be hopefully beyond the call of this enquiry?’
Pisani started to rise, but Cochrane anticipated the protest.
‘Aren’t we risking propriety again, Mr Flood?’ he cautioned.
‘Only in pursuit of the truth,’ responded the Attorney-General. He looked back to the witness.
‘Tell this court of the conversation that took place prior to your departure from Gibraltar.’
‘There was little discussion,’ recalled Deveau. ‘Once the Dei Gratia was cleared for sailing, it was our responsibility to complete the voyage for which she had been chartered. Captain Morehouse felt he should stay here, as superior officer. And that therefore I should captain the vessel to Italy.’
The Attorney-General was aware of Cochrane suddenly staring up and knew that the judge had also recognised how close Deveau’s wording had been to that of Captain Morehouse.
‘An attempt, in fact, to assist the court?’ said the Attorney-General, stressing the disbelief.
‘Yes, sir. That is how I understood it.’
‘Like discussing your evidence in detail?’
‘Sir?’
‘There appears often to be great similarity between the evidence of yourself and of others. Has there been much discussion between you?’
‘Of course,’ said Deveau ingenuously. ‘It is not a thing that happens often.’
‘Indeed it’s not, for which the court should be grateful,’ said Flood. ‘And during the course of these discussions, there has been agreement about what to say?’
Deveau looked blankly at the other man.
‘Have you attempted to get your stories in accord?’ persisted Flood.
‘No,’ said Deveau, at last comprehending.
‘So the employment of the same phrases – the same terminology – is a coincidence. Just as finding the Mary Celeste upon course was a coincidence … and your finding her, a vessel commanded by a man who had dined the night before departure with Captain Briggs, was a coincidence?’
Deveau shook his head, seeking a response.
‘We’ve told the truth,’ he said desperately.
‘A statement which many in this court feel is as open to conjecture as is the fate of the unfortunate Captain Briggs and his family,’ said Flood, sitting abruptly. He had expected to discompose the man more than he had. But obtaining an open admission had lessened in importance against the evidence of the naval captains. He had maintained the doubt about the salvors’ credibility and that mattered.
He became aware of Cochrane’s attention and looked up.
‘Is there any further evidence you wish to call, Mr Flood?’
The Attorney-General rose, shaking his head.
‘I am sufficiently content to lay the facts before Your Lordship,’ he said.
‘Mr Pisani?’
The salvors’ advocate shook his head, but Cornwell rose, seeking permission to speak.
‘Mr Cornwell?’ allowed Cochrane.
‘This hearing has progressed over a great number of days, to the increasing expense of my client, Captain Winchester,’ began Cornwell. ‘As I had cause to mention at the commencement of this enquiry, it is my client’s wish for the Mary Celeste to proceed as soon as possible to complete its charter. To that end, there has been brought to this port another captain and crew, a further expenditure. I would now formally seek your decree of restitution of the Mary Celeste to him, as rightful owner, upon his payment of a sum into this court sufficie
nt to cover the salvage claim and costs, so that as owner he may discharge his liabilities to the cargo owners …’
The lawyer came to the end of his submission and remained standing, looking hopefully towards the judge.
Cochrane took a long time to respond, flicking back through the large book into which he had made copious notes during the course of the enquiry.
Finally he looked up, his face expressionless.
‘I have devoted the greatest attention to Captain Winchester’s evidence-in-chief,’ he said. ‘I have also taken careful note of all the documents and affidavits produced before me. There are certain matters which have been brought to my notice respecting this vessel, my opinion about which I have already very decidedly expressed, and which make it desirable and even necessary that further investigation should take place before the release of the vessel can be considered or before she can quit this port.
‘The conduct of the salvors in leaving Gibraltar has, in my opinion, been most reprehensible and may probably influence the decision as to the claim for remuneration for their services. It appears very strange that the captain of the Dei Gratia, who knows little or nothing to help the investigation, should have remained here, while the first mate and crew who boarded the Mary Celeste and brought her here should have been allowed to go away as they have done. The court will take time to consider the decree for restitution.’
He paused, flicking through his evidence notation again.
‘As far as I am aware, Mr Cornwell, this court has not even received from you or from your client documentary proof that he has, in fact, any legal, proprietary right to the Mary Celeste …’
Cornwell twisted to Captain Winchester, sitting just behind him, and there was a hurriedly whispered conversation.
The Mary Celeste Page 16
