Roscarrock saw at once that the French shot had blown away part of the first four gunports on the starboard side, which had been the side of the ship he had presented to the enemy in his attempt to turn. Three guns were mangled heaps of metal, almost unrecognizable. A fourth, as the gunner had reported, was damaged but not so badly as the first three.
Yet it was not to that scene of chaos that the young midshipman led him but to a gun that was listed in the gunnery chart as number six portside, the central gun position of the eleven-gunport broadside. There was no damage here, but an isolated body was lying just behind the gun, which was being lashed into its position by two sailors.
The florid-faced surgeon, Smithers, was standing by the body, over which a canvas tarpaulin had been placed.
Midshipman Hart came to a halt by it and turned to his captain. “Lieutenant Jardine, sir,” he said, pointing almost dramatically at the body.
Roscarrock’s eyes narrowed. “I think I presumed as much,” he said without humor. “Now, Mr. Hart, what exactly demands my presence here?”
Hart strained forward like an eager dog trying to please its owner. “Well, sir, this position here, behind number six gun, was where the gunnery lieutenant was positioned to direct our broadsides.”
Roscarrock tried not to sound irritated. “I am aware, Mr. Hart, of the battle stations of my officers,” he replied.
The boy actually winced, and Roscarrock felt almost sorry for his sharpness. However, a ship-of-war in His Majesty’s navy was not the place to deal in polite manners.
“Get on with it, Mr. Hart.”
Midshipman Hart swallowed nervously. “Well, sir, Lieutenant Jardine was not killed by French shot nor collateral damage from its fall.”
The midshipman turned to the doctor. He was smiling as if amused by something.
“Lieutenant Jardine sustained his fatal injuries having been struck by that gun when in recoil.” He indicated the cannon being lashed back to its bulkhead moorings.
Roscarrock stared at him for a moment. “I see,” he said slowly. “Are you telling me that when number six gun was fired, it recoiled into Jardine and killed him? That Jardine was standing too near the gun when it was fired?”
Smithers actually chuckled. “Precisely so, Captain. Precisely so.”
Roscarrock knew there was no love lost between the surgeon and the late third lieutenant. He decided to ignore the man’s humor.
“If he was so close behind the gun when it recoiled, then it would seem that this was an accident but that the fault lay with him. We will give his family the benefit of hearing he died in action and not by an accident that could have been avoided.”
Midshipman Hart cleared his throat. “It was not exactly an accident, sir,” he ventured.
Roscarrock turned quickly to him with a frown. “What’s that you say?” he snapped.
Midshipman Hart blanched at his captain’s disapproving tone but stood his ground. “I do not think this was an accident, sir.”
There was a moments silence.
“Then, pray, sir, how else do you explain it?” Roscarrock allowed a little sarcasm to enter into his voice. “Jardine is standing behind the gun; when it is fired, the gun recoils and slams into him, causing injuries from which he dies. Do I have the right of it, Surgeon Smithers?” he demanded of the doctor without turning to him.
“You do, sir; you do, indeed,” echoed the smiling surgeon.
“Then we are agreed so far. Now, Mr. Hart, if, as you claim, this was no accident, are you saying that Lieutenant Jardine deliberately stood in a position where he, as gunnery officer, knew the gun would recoil on him?”
“No, sir, I do not.”
“Then what are you saying,” Roscarrock demanded harshly, “for I am at a loss to understand your argument?”
“I am saying that murder may have been committed, sir.”
There was an awkward silence.
The young midshipman stood defiantly under the close scrutiny of his captain.
When Roscarrock spoke, his voice was quiet. “Murder, Mr. Hart? Murder? That is a most serious accusation.”
Midshipman Hart raised his jaw defensively. “I have considered the implications of my accusation, sir.”
“Then, perhaps, you would be good enough to take me through the facts which would lead me to follow your line of thinking.”
Hart was eager now to demonstrate his arguments. “I have accepted that Lieutenant Jardine was an experienced gunnery officer. His station in any battle was to stand amidships behind guns number six on both port and starboard, a position where he could command the broadsides on both sides of the ship. His usual position was center ship, where no gun could recoil back if properly secured.”
Roscarrock said nothing. All this was common knowledge that was shared by even the young powder monkeys aboard. The boys who carried powder and shot to the cannon learned immediately they came aboard to avoid accidents such as getting caught in gun recoil.
Hart paused, and when his captain made no further comment, he went on quickly. “Each cannon is secured to its position by stay ropes which allow for recoil but control the extent of the recoil. Therefore, a gun can only jump back a yard or so at most.”
Roscarrock was still silent.
“In the case of number-six gun-” Hart turned to where members of the crew had now finished lashing the gun back into its position. “-the gun recoiled back across the deck and struck Lieutenant Jardine without being halted by the stay ropes.”
Roscarrock’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you telling me that the gun was not secured?”
“That is correct, sir. It was not secured. I believe that this was a deliberate act and no accident.”
“Deliberate? It could have been caused by a frayed stay rope which had not been picked up during an inspection.”
Midshipman Hart shook his head vehemently. “Two main ropes secure the gun. Both ropes would have had to be frayed and have snapped asunder at precisely the same moment. A frayed rope breaking on one side would not cause a straight recoil. The gun would have swung at an angle on its side as the stay rope on the other side would have pulled it to a halt there.”
“What are you saying, then?”
Midshipman Hart turned to the gun and picked up a couple of rope’s ends. “These are the ropes that attached the gun to the bulkhead to limit its recoil.” He held them out for Roscarrock’s inspection. “If you will observe, sir, you will see that both ropes were cut almost through by a sharp implement, a knife, to the point where the force of pressure from the first recoil would have snapped the remaining strands.”
Roscarrock examined the rope ends in silence before handing them back to the young midshipman. “Very well, Mr. Hart. Suppose we accept that someone did this in order to kill Lieutenant Jardine; we must then assume that whoever did it knew that in a battle Jardine would be standing behind that gun. His battle station was well known. But how would they been so sure as to the moment the gun was to be fired? They would have had to sever the ropes only when they were certain of an engagement, for tackle is inspected every three days on this ship.”
Midshipman Hart inclined his head thoughtfully. “You are quite right, sir.”
“Exactly so. You will agree that to achieve this purpose, the severing of the ropes had to be done just before we engaged the French. In those seconds during the very call to battle stations. There would surely have been witnesses to the deed.”
“Lieutenant Jardine was not popular with the men, sir.” It was Surgeon Smithers who made the deadpan comment.
There was no argument in that.
Roscarrock turned as if irritated to find Smithers still there, grinning broadly. “Very well, Doctor. I am sure that you have other duties to fulfill. I would ask you not to comment to any other person about this matter until we have cleared it up.”
Thus dismissed, the surgeon left to attend to those injured who needed his skills.