A Dishonorable Few (The Honor Series)

by Robert N. Macomber

  Fish’s tone lowered. “They are losing respect for our ability to project force in the Caribbean, in our own backyard. And respect of a country’s force, sir, is the lubricant of international relations.”

  Robeson warily gestured agreement as Fish pressed on.

  “However, if this internal litigation is concluded in a manner that could salve the disciplinary needs of the navy, and also show certain foreign leaders that we intended to do what we did, it would be a good thing, don’t you think? By the way, was it really his brother that you sent down there?”

  The secretary of the navy looked up at the intricately molded ceiling. Fish had him. “We didn’t know that when we made the assignment. We didn’t know the identity of the damn pirate until the Canton got down there. And, for your information, we sent the ship down there to get the job done, not to merely make a show of it. Unfortunately, we had the wrong man in command. So you and the president want this all to go away so that you can get on with your political business down there?”

  Fish shrugged and smiled. “Of course. Wouldn’t that be the best for everyone?”

  ***

  The morning chill felt invigorating to Wake as the four of them made their daily trek to the building. Stockton told them he sensed that his plan was coming to fruition, that their defense against the enemy’s prosecutorial attacks had worked and their own flanking attacks were making progress. He also explained that Wake would not testify—that was too dangerous with a man like Wayne as prosecutor. Today would be the final arguments and then the board would sit in secret deliberation. Usually that took at least a day.

  One hour later Commander Wayne gave his summation to the court.

  “Mr. President and members of the Board of the Court-Martial. For the last several days we have been presented with evidence of several things. First, that Lieutenant Peter Wake did treat his superior with contempt, failing to notify him of serious decisions and intentionally failing to advise him of planning sessions with other ship captains. In fact, Lieutenant Wake acted with outside officers as if he were the captain of the Canton.

  “Second, we have it from Mr. Wake’s own report that he uttered mutinous words to his superior and held a mutinous assembly with officers and petty officers. This assembly having had the result of confining their captain and failing to render him aid.

  “Third, we have heard of Captain Terrington’s pain and legitimate need for medicine, as a result of arduous service during the war, something to which each of us here can relate.

  “Fourth, again by Mr. Wake’s own report, we have found that he physically assaulted his superior through attacking him in a storeroom and subsequently restraining him down into his berth.

  “And finally, we have discovered, from his own report and from the testimony of others, that Lieutenant Wake negligently performed the duty assigned to him, that being to assist his captain in the command of the ship. In fact, gentlemen, this man,” said Wayne, pointing at Wake, “did everything he could to undermine Captain Terrington’s ability to command and the crew’s respect for their commander.

  “If he had supported his captain, if he had demonstrated that age-old custom of personal assistance between an executive officer and a captain, we would not be here today, and the honor and discipline of the United States Navy would not be called into question. If he had only tried to help Parker Terrington, Lieutenant Wake would still being serving aboard the Canton, probably the recipient of a letter of commendation from his captain.

  “What was the true extent of Lieutenant Wake’s actions against Captain Terrington? We will never know, because that naval officer is dead, killed in gallant action. What we do know is that Lieutenant Wake’s behavior toward his captain was not that required by regulations or expected by decency, and his opportunism glaringly stands out by the evidence presented.

  “Every ship captain, which includes every member of this court, knows he must have complete trust in his executive officer. That was denied Captain Parker Terrington and we are here to seek justice for that offense.”

  A short recess was held, for which Wake was relieved. The prosecution’s summation made him alternately angry and confused. Then it was Stockton’s turn.

  “Mr. President and members of the Board of the Court-Martial, I shall be brief. Gentlemen, my esteemed colleague Commander Wayne did not have much to work with to support these charges. Not much at all. In fact, he has had to rely upon his rendition of the facts to craft an eloquent summation, one that if a person had not been in the court for the last several days to hear and read the evidence, would sound plausible and overwhelming. Through his articulate and passionate words—and not through the evidence—the ancient and ominous fear of mutiny has been raised.

  “But in reality the contrary is true. You have been here. You intimately know the evidence. And each of you knows that there was no mutiny, real or imagined. Captain Parker Terrington was a man in pain, be it actual or imagined, who had been taken down a path of no return by the surgeon’s mate. And that path led to a complete inability to function and command due to his drug addiction.

  “Was Lieutenant Peter Wake in any way responsible for his captain’s addiction? No, of course not. He didn’t even understand what exactly it was until the infirmity had completely conquered the man. Was it his fault that he did not know? No, of course not. Through his loyalty he kept supporting the captain, and his ignorance of the true nature of the problem was due to the surgeon’s mate maintaining the secret of the malady.

  “Then what did Lieutenant Wake do? As we have seen and heard, he supported his captain to the point of running the ship while the commander lay in his cabin for days or weeks at a time. Then, when combat appeared imminent and command decisions would have to be made instantaneously, Lieutenant Wake did what every executive officer has done in this navy’s history when faced with a similar situation. Realizing that his captain’s sickness made him obviously unable to function in combat, Lieutenant Peter Wake took command, just as he would have had it been typhoid or yellow fever or dysentery.

  “And when he took command, what happened? The mission was accomplished. A long, difficult, and dangerous mission against a determined foe was accomplished and the foe vanquished. This result is described by not only the other officers aboard the Canton, but by men of status and credibility, independent of the U.S. Navy, who were there and who saw the work of Lieutenant Wake.

  “Commander Wayne has said that every ship captain must have trust in his executive officer. How very true and how very appropriate to this case. Gentlemen, I think there is no doubt that every veteran ship commander would be honored to have a man like Lieutenant Wake serve as his executive officer. What better type of man to serve in that capacity than the kind of officer who has made this navy, and this country, what it is today. The finest in the world.”

  ***

  Admiral Munroe was blunt to the members of the board once the door closed and they were alone, all others having left.

  “All right, gentlemen, I want to hear each of your opinions, and I don’t care what rank you are.” Munroe faced the junior member of the board. “You will start, Commander Higgins.”

  After each man had submitted his appraisal of the situation, with the two senior captains in favor of conviction, the three junior officers in favor of acquittal, and the commodore undecided, Munroe spoke again.

  “Thank you gentlemen. I will give you my opinion tomorrow, and until then we will adjourn. I expect each of you to ponder this case, and the ramifications of your decision, throughout the night. I fear it will be a sleepless one for you. And at nine o’clock in the morning we will sit together again and render our decision.”

  ***

  Rear Admiral Franklin Munroe had an unexpected visitor that evening. He and the secretary of the navy, an old friend from New Jersey who had personally asked for him to come out of r
etirement and handle the court-martial, stayed up late in Munroe’s quarters, discussing everything from the recent deaths of contemporaries to the future of the navy. And along the conversation’s journey, the two old men also discussed the case involving young Lieutenant Wake and what had really happened aboard the USS Canton in the tropical waters of the Caribbean.

  When Secretary Robeson left the front gate of the Naval Yard at midnight he smiled to himself. He and old Frankie had been able to salvage the mess, but it was a close run thing. And Fish most definitely owed him one after this.

  ***

  The chief of the Bureau of Navigation, in charge of officer assignments among other things, was awakened at two in the morning at his home and given a strange message by the duty yeoman. Shaking his head in wonderment and uttering some oaths learned at sea forty years earlier, he dressed and went down to his office to handle Secretary Robeson’s unusual request. Once there, he met with his senior yeoman, who had also been awakened, and had the orders written and copied out for the record.

  As per the secretary’s request, they would be delivered to the recipients at nine-fifteen in the morning.

  ***

  This was the coldest morning in Linda’s life. Raised in tropical Key West, she had never been north of Pensacola. The early winter air that had come down from Canada in middle October had everyone at her hotel speculating what was to come in November.

  Wake held his wife close as they walked in silence to the court-martial building. She could feel the tension in his body belying the brave smile he displayed for her. At nine o’clock the Marine announced that the court was reconvening and for all authorized parties to enter to hear the decision. Wake embraced his wife, then entered the court-martial room with his counsel.

  As Linda waited, witnesses for the defense started to gather in the hallway. Rork gave her a big hug, but she could see his eyes were filled with emotion. None of them spoke of the trial, instead making small talk in an attempt to alleviate Linda’s anxiety. She loved them all for their efforts, but it was for naught—inside her anger was displaced by terror of what would happen.

  Wake had only one thing in mind as he entered the room—the position of his sword on the table. If the hilt was toward the door he was acquitted, but if the blade’s point was aimed at the door he was convicted. The officers entering ahead of him prevented Wake from seeing the sword, frustrating him. His legs felt weak as he made his way to the defense table and finally saw his sword on the table in front of Admiral Munroe.

  Neither end was toward the door. The sword lay along the table as it had for several days.

  His heart pumping with trepidation, Wake stood along with the others as Admiral Munroe entered. Then everyone sat as Munroe, showing a grim mien, whispered something to the commodore, who winced, then called the court-martial to order. The admiral beckoned Commander Wayne and handed him the written verdict, which he perused without reaction. The judge advocate in turn handed it to the yeoman, who then announced the decision as Wake and his counsel stood.

  “After hearing all of the facts of this matter, it is the opinion of this court that the charges specified against Lieutenant Peter Wake, United States Navy, through no fault of the judge advocate, have been deficient in developing substantial enough supporting evidence to enable a prosecution of this case. It is therefore the order of this court that the proceedings held heretofore be redesignated as a special court of inquiry, and that the evidence assembled therein be remanded as confidential information to the custody of the board of the court of inquiry.

  “It is further decided by the court that the special court of inquiry finds no supportable cause of action against Lieutenant Peter Wake.

  “It is finally decided by this court that the matter is ended and that it will thus adjourn sine die. So ordered and published this nineteenth day of October, in the year of our Lord, eighteen sixty-nine, by direction of Rear Admiral Franklin Munroe, United States Navy, President of the Court. May God bless the United States of America.”

  Wake’s hands were shaking and he felt close to a nervous breakdown when Munroe stood and held out the sword in both hands. “Lieutenant Wake, you may retrieve your sword.”

  Wake advanced to the front of the room, accepted the sword and was about to say thank you, when the admiral bellowed, “This court is now and forever adjourned!” and walked out, followed solemnly by the other members of the board and Commander Wayne.

  Wake stood there for a moment by himself, then turned to see Hostetler chuckling and Stockton with a wry grin. “Commander Stockton, I don’t understand at all. What does all this mean?”

  “Peter, it means the whole thing never happened. There were no charges and this wasn’t a general court-martial, only a court of inquiry. And the information gained is confidential to be held by the court—that means Munroe personally. You are free with absolutely no record. This is even better than an acquittal.”

  “My God!” shouted Wake, letting go of his self-discipline. “You did it!”

  Stockton held up a hand. “No, I didn’t do anything, Peter—you did. Your actions spoke loudly for themselves. We just let the age-old law of Washington politics take over.”

  Hostetler and Wake gave him a quizzical look, so he added. “The repercussions of perceptions, Peter. In the Caribbean you’re perceived to be a hero. Can you imagine the repercussions to a politician in Washington who would punish a hero?”

  Wake shook his head in disbelief at it all, then went out to tell Linda, but she already knew from the Marine who had heard it from the grinning yeoman. Through the petty officer grapevine, within minutes the whole navy yard knew.

  He held her tightly, tears running down their faces, surrounded by men who had put their careers on the line to tell the truth about a man they respected. When he finally let her go and turned to the men, Wake couldn’t get anything out. There was so much he wanted to say to them, but was choked by sentiment.

  He took a breath and squeezed Linda’s hand, then managed to speak. “Thank you, all. I know what it took to do what you did. And I will never forget it.” Wake glanced at Linda and smiled. “For both of us, and our children, thank you. . . .”

  The officers and petty officers in the hallway broke into applause, their hugs and backslapping and laughter echoing around the building. Behind Wake, a messenger made his way through the crowded hallway and stood in front of Stockton. “Commander Stockton, sir? Urgent messages for you, and Lieutenant Wake, from Admiral Frazier at the Bureau of Navigation, sir. I was told no reply is necessary at this time, only confirmation you received the messages.” He then handed the surprised officer two envelopes and disappeared after Stockton acknowledged him.

  The gathering grew quiet as Stockton silently read the message, then handed Wake his identical envelope.

  “Repercussions of perceptions, Peter. It works both ways. We have embarrassed the department,” said Stockton quietly. “So they can’t just let us off that easy, can they? I am ordered to join the Tierra del Fuego Survey Expedition—the day after tomorrow in Philadelphia. I’ll be the exec of Choctaw. We depart immediately to take advantage of summer in the Southern Hemisphere.”

  Linda looked at Stockton and asked, “Where is Tierra del Fuego?”

  Stockton answered, “I am being sent, literally, to the bottom of the world, Linda. Tierra del Fuego is the land around Cape Horn, and we’re to do a hydrographic survey in the area. It will take two years.”

  Wake tore open his own envelope and read his orders, the blood draining from his face. He was ordered to join Commander Selfridge’s Panama Survey Expedition assembling at the Brooklyn Navy Yard in two days. The expedition’s mission was to determine a canal route across the Isthmus and they would be departing at the beginning of the year. The steamer Nipsic would be the flagship. Wake was assigned to the actual survey party and would be going through the jungle
and mountains of that deadly place. He was speechless.

  “What about you?” Linda asked, worried at the expression on his face. “Where are you going?”

  “Back to the jungle, in Panama. A survey mission across the Isthmus. They’re apparently getting us out of sight for a while, I guess. It says here I probably won’t be back until the fall of 1871. I report in two days to Brooklyn,” said Wake.

  “Oh Lord, Peter. All this was on purpose,” said Linda, the anger returning and welling up. “These damned politicians are punishing you for doing what was right! What’s wrong with them? I hate this damn place!”

  “Linda, please don’t make it worse than it is.”

  “Worse! You’re going into a place where hundreds die from fever every year! You know exactly what those fevers can do. They are sending you there to die, Peter. To get rid of you. Don’t you see that?”

  The hallway got silent, the men embarrassed for Wake and angry at the orders. When Hostetler broke the silence with his booming voice and suggested that all hands go to a watering hole he knew over on M Street, they started to disperse, wishing Wake and Stockton luck. Rork shook his friend’s hand, leaned over and whispered something, then walked down the hall. Durling nodded, his concerned eyes saying it all. Stockton stayed behind when the crowd left, still reading his orders. Finally Stockton spoke up.

  “Linda, the navy already had these missions planned and implemented. Naval officers would be assigned—if not Peter and me, then some other two. It’s our profession. It’s what we do.” The commander strode away out of the building, following the others to the bar, leaving the couple alone in the deserted hall.

  “He’s right, Linda. At least I’ll have a mission. A lot of officers don’t have a billet and they go on half-pay. Plus, I do know a bit more about Panama than many officers, so I’m a good fit.”