A Dishonorable Few (The Honor Series)

by Robert N. Macomber

  In his nervous exhaustion, Wake laughed at Hostetler’s referral to the slang used by naval officers for naval regulations. “Yes, Charles, and I suppose they’ve been afoul of the ‘rocks and shoals’ a few times themselves.” Turning to Stockton, then nodding at the stack of books, he said, “Have you found anything in regulations that assists me, Commander?”

  “These?” he gestured to the stack, then pointed out each as he described them. “This book contains the one hundred ninety-four articles of the naval regulations of eighteen-fifteen, commonly known as the Black Book. Now this one here is better known as the Blue Book of eighteen-eighteen, this is the Red Book of eighteen thirty-two, and this little tome,” he picked up a massive book, “contains the eight hundred articles of naval regulations from eighteen forty-one, compiled by Secretary of the Navy Spaulding. And finally, here are the eighteen sixty-two regulations from Secretary Welles, which we operate under today, with certain amendments from last year. For the last week I have studied every single one of the articles of regulations in each of these for some sort of a justification or protection of your actions, Mr. Wake, either current or even historical.”

  Wake took a deep breath. “And?”

  “I have not found one.”

  Wake used all of his self-discipline not to scream in desperation. Instead, he looked at Stockton and asked calmly, “All right, Commander, do you see any strengths on my side of this?”

  Stockton relaxed back in his chair and paused pensively, his eyes never leaving Wake. Then he answered. “Yes. Five things. First, of course, the alleged victim is dead and unable to testify. Second, you did manage to eventually find this maniac Symons and kill him. Third, you have several very credible witnesses as to your character. Fourth, the navy no longer has a judge advocate general since John Bolles of Massachusetts, who did good work by the way, has stepped down. Those duties have been taken over by the Justice Department—an independent group not under naval control—so that an appeal would have a bit of a chance. . . .”

  “And the fifth, Commander?”

  “And fifth, Mr. Wake, . . . by God, you have me.”

  Wake looked at him carefully. “But do you believe in my innocence, Commander?”

  “Mr. Wake, if I didn’t believe in your innocence, I would not be in this stifling hot room talking to you and risking my career. I’m not in the habit of wasting my time, Lieutenant. I took this case because I know we can win it.”

  Wake saw the determined look on Stockton’s face and it gave him some courage. “Thank you for that, Commander Stockton. How exactly do you see our plan of attack, as it were, unfolding?”

  “At this moment I don’t know, Peter. But I’m pretty sure I’ll think of something,” replied Stockton, a mischievous grin forming on his face. “You see, I know the ‘rocks and shoals’ as well as any man in the U.S. Navy. And it will give me great pleasure to use them to make the incompetent bastards who put Parker Terrington in command of a warship regret that stupid decision, and also the malicious one to prosecute you.”

  Wake let out a sigh. Hostetler suddenly pounded the table and said in his booming voice, “By God, Peter, I think we’ve got ’em right where we want ’em, now!”

  43

  The Prosecution’s Attack

  October 1869

  She wanted to go in the room and sit beside him, to hold his hand and help defend him against this persecution, if only with the look in her eyes. But Linda knew she wasn’t allowed inside. The court-martial was not open to the public, and upon her protest her husband had reminded Linda that the United States Navy was not a democracy. He also told her that he had total confidence in not only his innocence, but his counsel as well. During the previous weeks he, Stockton, and Hostetler had gone over every statement, every event, and every avenue of questioning they could think of. He was ready, Wake told his wife. It was time to get it done.

  The Marine corporal at the door stood to attention as Wake and his counsel entered, then closed it without emotion as Linda stood there, seething inside and fighting back the tears at the sad sight of her husband going in to face the court-martial without her alongside to support him.

  She found it ironic that the proceedings were restricted to keep out the non-participants, but not technically secret, so that periodically Hostetler would come out and update her on what was happening, trying to describe it in positive terms. She would ask questions, which Hostetler answered candidly, knowing the lady would see through a white lie.

  She waited by herself in the middle of a row of chairs outside the doors of the court-martial room, as serious-faced officers with gold braid on their sleeves—much more braid than her husband had—marched past her apparently on important business. Petty officers and ratings would come along and say hello, far more friendly and somehow encouraging in their comportment. After a while, she noticed that the officers were barely looking at her, as if they could be tainted by association, but the enlisted men always made a point to greet her.

  Throughout the day prosecution witnesses would arrive and sit in the chairs beside her, then be called in by the Marine sentry. The witnesses would not even look at her. She felt a mixture of fear and anger at them, and wondered what they were saying about her husband. Except for the last two witnesses. They were officers and smiled at her, with more embarrassment than anything else, as if they were attempting to excuse their appearance and encourage her. It was all so confusing and infuriating for Linda.

  And inside the room, it was anything but encouraging for Wake.

  The board was presided over by Rear Admiral Franklin Munroe, retired from fifty years of service, man and boy, in the United States Navy and called out for this specific assignment, which he described to the court as “an odorous and grim duty.” Each member of the board was glumly silent as they made their oaths of office and sat down at the long table, covered with a dark blue cloth bordered in gold roping.

  Lying on the table in front of the admiral’s place was Wake’s sword. The table crossed one end of the room and along either wall were the defense table and the judge advocate’s table, where a yeoman clerk also sat and recorded the proceedings. A chair for witnesses was placed within the area bounded by the tables, so that a person testifying was being scrutinized on three sides. Four windows were open at the end of the room behind the board’s table, but did little to relieve the oppressive heat inside.

  Once the members were sworn in, Admiral Munroe gruffly explained that he would run a fair and thorough court-martial and that this matter would be concluded efficiently, with no “lollygagging or grandstanding” by the participants.

  Then Commander Wayne, the prosecuting judge advocate, laid out the charges against Wake. Speaking with ominously deliberate precision, he announced each charge and concluded by saying the case was the most serious faced by the navy since the end of the war and that the outcome would be studied and utilized by naval officers for years to come.

  Commander Stockton then stood erect, faced the court, and gave his opening statement. “Mr. President and Members of the Court, I agree with Commander Wayne’s assessment of the seriousness of this case, but would further state that it is the most important case ever in the history of the American Navy. Our navy has always had a different esprit, one born of our native initiative and honor, and we have always been victorious because of that. Our navy is not composed of martinets, but of martial men—men who think and act. During the course of this proceeding, you will hear of one of the best examples of that tradition, Lieutenant Peter Wake. And when this proceeding has concluded, and his decisive courage has been made known, each of you will be proud to shake his hand for what he has done for our navy, and our country.”

  As Stockton returned to his seat, Munroe audibly harrumphed and ordered Wayne to proceed and “get on with his evidence and testimony.” The judge advocate pleasantly acknowledged the order, then
called Surgeon’s Mate Mortimer Pullwood.

  With a carefully coached style, Pullwood described Terrington as a man in pain due to the “debilitations of service in the navy,” including “aches and pains in his joints,” which the surgeon’s mate diagnosed as probably arthritis due to extended tours of duty in damp men-o-war during the war. Pullwood further described Terrington as being in good mental condition, not melancholy, and very polite to officers and men. He thought Terrington the very best commanding officer he had ever served under and lamented the man’s demise. To the direct question of whether Terrington was addicted to laudanum and rum, Pullwood said that in his opinion he probably was not, though he took it every day. He also testified that Wake had never asked his opinion of the captain’s medical condition before removing Terrington from command.

  Throughout his testimony, Pullwood would not look at Wake, only at Admiral Munroe. Commander Wayne complimented Pullwood for his articulate responses and smoothly asked the court to excuse the witness, as if no further questions were expected.

  Before Wake’s counsel could even request cross-examination, Munroe, who was not one to be swayed by the suave verbiage of the judge advocate, ordered Commander Stockton to question the witness. Stockton addressed Pullwood. “Is laudanum addictive?”

  “It can be, sir.”

  “After how long?”

  “Depends on the man and the pain, sir.”

  “After how long usually do you stop giving a man laudanum?”

  “Six to eight weeks for bad cases.”

  “This pain of Captain Terrington’s, did you document the source of it as a justification for your dispensing laudanum?”

  “Oh, no, sir. He was the captain.”

  “Is that a violation of regulations?”

  “Well, I suppose so, in a way. . . .”

  “And your dispensing of the laudanum was in the usual manner for that type of pain?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “By your own statement earlier you said you gave him two to three doses a day, a tablespoon each dose. What is the standard you would give to a man each day who had, say, a gunshot wound to the leg? Remember, Pullwood, I have a copy of the surgeon’s manual on my desk there. I am asking to see if you know.”

  “Well, that would depend . . . on the man, and the wound . . . and other . . . things, and . . .” Pullwood was totally confused, delaying until he could understand where the questioning was heading.

  “Yes, it does. So let’s establish the parameters. Please tell me how many doses minimum to that man? And for how long? A week? Two weeks?” insisted Stockton.

  Pullwood knew exactly where the questions were going now, but he also knew they could check his answers. “Probably two a day, sir. For two to four weeks.”

  “And the maximum dosage for, say, a severe leg wound and pain?”

  “Probably five a day, sir, for eight to ten weeks.”

  “If a man requested such a maximum dose for twenty-five weeks to handle the pain of a wound, would you certify that he could still go on deck and work at the same time?”

  “Ah . . . well, no, I don’t think I would, sir.”

  “Would it be cruel to make him work with that much pain?”

  “Yes, I suppose it would, sir. But Captain Terrington didn’t have no gunshot.”

  “But Pullwood, according to your testimony here Captain Terrington—the man you held in such dear estimation—was actually in the same amount of pain as a man who had sustained a severe gunshot wound and was taking laudanum dispensed by you for more than two times longer than the maximum—”

  “I beg the court to object,” interrupted Wayne. “Defense counsel is making a statement, not asking a question.”

  “Concur,” rumbled Munroe. “Ask something, don’t preach, Commander Stockton.”

  “Yes, sir. Pullwood, with all of this supposed pain the captain was in, why did you not have the kindness or courtesy to your patient to make that condition known to the executive officer so that Captain Terrington could seek relief?”

  “’Twarn’t his business, sir,” said Pullwood, exasperated. “’Twas between the patient and me.”

  “So you allowed a man with debilitating pain to continue to try to exert himself, and use the laudanum?”

  Pullwood’s eyes reflected his fear. “Ah, sir, that’s what Captain Terrington wanted.”

  “And he wanted it five times a day, every day, correct?” asked Stockton with raised eyebrow.

  Pullwood sagged in the witness chair. “He was the captain, sir. How do you say no to the captain?”

  “Pullwood, are you under charges right now for dispensing laudanum improperly?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you state in your statement that you and Steward Morely and Quartermaster Castle relaxed with Captain Terrington in his cabin over rum drinks and laudanum?”

  “Yes, sir. We did that only sometimes, sir. The captain invited us, sir.”

  “Mr. President of the Court, I have no further questions of this witness.”

  Steward Morely was the next witness called by Commander Wayne. Under direct questioning he testified that Captain Terrington exhibited no signs of insanity or addiction and that it was clear that Lieutenant Wake did not like the captain and held a grudge because the captain had had sharp words to him once.

  Stockton asked what those sharp words were about, to which Morely answered, “Dangerous seamanship in hazarding the ship at Haiti in May, where she was almost lost.” The board members sat up, one asking for more details, which Morely was unable to give, since he was below for most of the event. But he did say that he heard Terrington chastise Wake for failing to notify him of a dangerous maneuver close to shore that had almost sunk the Canton.

  It was obvious that Commander Wayne had no prior knowledge of the episode, but wanted to capitalize on its negative effect. When Stockton announced he had no further questions—to Wake’s shock Commander Wayne requested to be able to re-examine the witness.

  “How do you know the ship was in danger of being lost?”

  “I heard the ship’s officers talk about it, sir. And also the captain himself, when he came back below. He called Mr. Wake a ‘damned upstart’ he did, sir. Said he almost killed them all on the rocks of Haiti.”

  Wayne smiled and ended his questioning. Then Stockton rose and requested a question for clarification of a point raised by Commander Wayne. Munroe muttered yes and leaned forward, intensely interested.

  “And was that event that you speak of the time, on May fifteenth, when Canton was able to save the entire ship and crew of the Spanish warship Sirena, which was about to founder upon the rocks of Haiti?”

  “Ah, yes, sir. That was the name of that Dago ship.”

  “If it pleases the court, I have a sworn statement given by the captain of that vessel, Fernando Toledo, testifying to the professional skill and courage of Lieutenant Wake in effecting that rescue. Unfortunately, Captain Toledo was killed in action against the pirates, but his statement, written in anticipation of Lieutenant Wake’s court-martial, will be entered into the record during the defense presentation. I have no further questions of this man.”

  Quartermaster Johnny Castle was called by Commander Wayne next. The grizzled man barely concealed his hatred of Wake as he entered. Keeping his answers directed to the admiral, Castle sneered at Wake as he listened to the questions. He testified as to Terrington’s seamanship and his sobriety, saying that Terrington was “a real sailorman’s captain” and that Castle considered him the best he had ever seen in twenty years of service, which he stressed included combat during the war. Castle then admitted that he was under charges involving laudanum, but countered that they were as trumped up as the ones against poor dead Captain Terrington, who was not even able to defend himself against the scurrilous sland
er.

  Stockton only had one question for the quartermaster.

  “Did you ever partake of laudanum with Parker Terrington, in the same cabin? And before you answer, please remember that you are under oath.”

  Castle’s head tilted to one side, face grimaced, and muttered, “That is a damned lie . . . sir.”

  The final witnesses for the prosecution were the other two lieutenants of the Canton. Connery testified first, then Custen. Stockton had prepared Wake for this, explaining they were there by order, not desire. Still, it was unsettling for Wake to see each of them enter the room as witnesses for the prosecution. During their individual testimonies, Lieutenants Connery and Custen were sternly admonished by Commander Wayne to strictly answer either yes or no to his questions.

  Each was asked if they had ever specifically seen Captain Terrington partake of laudanum, to which each answered no. Then the officers were asked if he had ever appeared falling down drunk or besotted by a drug while in their presence on the main deck. Each had hesitated, then reluctantly answered no again. The final question for each was if they had ever seen the captain hazard their ship in a like manner as Lieutenant Wake did on the shore of Haiti in May of 1869, to which each also said no.

  Stockton’s cross-examination inquired of them how often they had even seen Terrington on the main deck after April of that year. Connery said perhaps seven or eight times. Custen answered that it might have been nine or ten. Stockton asked them who, since April, had been making the command decisions aboard the Canton. Each replied decisively that it had been Lieutenant Wake.

  The last witness for the prosecution was young ensign Noble. He was asked if Terrington had died as a result of enemy action, to which Noble responded yes, that the pirate had shot Terrington in the face when he had looked out the stern windows. Agreeing reluctantly with Wake’s request, Stockton elected not to cross-examine and besmirch the final moment of Terrington’s life. Stockton’s reasoning was more practical—he didn’t want to elicit sympathy for Terrington by attacking him post-mortem.