Goddard waved at Jenkins. He had learned enough now not to rely on using words with the witness. "Strike out all from 'little enough' - the witness has been warned to respond only to matter relevant to the charges."
Yet as Aitken gave a slight bow in acknowledgement, Goddard felt more than a little uncertainty. They were glib, these young scoundrels, and Jenkins did not seem to understand what was going on.
Jenkins picked up the next slip of paper. "Did you or your men shoot at or in any way attack any of the Jason's ship's company?"
"It wasn't necessary -"
"Answer 'yes' or 'no'," Goddard snapped.
"No," Aitken said, and as Jenkins dipped his pen in the ink before writing down the single word, Aitken added: "The Jason's men had left the 12-pounders and surrendered."
"Out! Out! Strike it out!" Goddard shouted. "Just 'No', that was his answer. Aitken, you've had your last warning."
Jenkins picked up the next slip of paper and, seeing Goddard nod, asked the question. "Did you see Captain Shirley at about this time? And if so, what was he doing?"
"I did, and he was standing abreast the mainmast," Aitken said.
Goddard nodded. The young puppy had at last learned the lesson, although God knows it had taken long enough.
Reading from the next slip, Jenkins asked: "Was Captain Shirley making any threatening gestures towards you or any of the Calypso's boarding party?"
"Oh no," Aitken said, as though shocked at the idea. "He was standing quite alone and watching us." He let Jenkins write down the answer and then added: "I also saw that none of his officers were making any threatening gestures." Goddard nodded - this was more like it: evidence was being given in a proper fashion now. Aitken continued: "In fact I was surprised -" he paused a few moments as Goddard continued nodding, "- because there was not an officer on deck: Captain Shirley was alone, apart from a few midshipmen."
Goddard's brow wrinkled and the six captains sitting with their backs to Aitken swung round and stared. Captain Swinford, without waiting for Goddard's permission, exclaimed: "What do you mean, there were no other officers on deck? You simply mean you did not see them."
"I did not see any, sir," Aitken agreed, and Swinford seemed contented with the reply until Aitken added quietly: "Within minutes I confirmed none was on deck because I found them all locked in the gunroom guarded by a Marine sentry."
"Indeed?" said Swinford, and looked at Goddard, whose face had gone white. The silence in the cabin was broken only by the slapping of wavelets under the Salvador del Mundo's stern, the distant mewing of seagulls, and the scraping of Jenkins's pen.
And that has nailed you, Admiral, Ramage thought. Now Goddard would have to ask questions concerning that evidence, and then there would be a chance of bringing out the details of Shirley's madness.
Goddard rapped the table with his signet ring and a startled Jenkins looked up.
"Read out the question again."
Jenkins again asked whether Shirley had made any threatening gestures.
"Ah yes," Goddard said calmly. "That was the question, and the witness replied that he had not, so the answer is: 'No'. Very well, carry on with Captain Shirley's next question. I have told the witness several times that he must answer the question. The court is not interested in his views on any subject not referred to in the question. We'll be hearing him preaching to us next -" he guffawed at the idea and added, without realizing that the captains were watching him silent and stony-eyed, "- or even giving us his views on naval tactics!" Realizing his joke had fallen flat, he snapped: "Come on, Jenkins, we haven't all night. Next question. But perhaps. Captain Shirley, you have no more questions to ask this witness?"
The question was asked in a persuasive tone and accompanied by what Goddard no doubt regarded as his winning smile.
Shirley raised his head a fraction, as though resting from his survey of every thread in the canvas stretched over the deck. Before answering, he stood up and walked the three or four paces to Jenkins's place at the table, retrieved some slips of paper and returned to his seat. He reached under his chair for a leather pouch, opened it and put away the slips, taking out several more.
Only then did he look up at Goddard and say in a monotone: "I have no more questions to put to this witness."
Goddard sighed and then stared heavy-eyed at Ramage. "Do you have any questions? As he'll be called later as a defence witness, you must restrict your questions to the points raised by the prosecution."
"I have some questions, sir." He turned to Aitken. "The first question asked by the prosecution was to describe your role when the Jason was boarded. You omitted to describe my orders to you before the Calypso went alongside the Jason."
Ramage was conscious that Goddard's great bulk was tense; he could imagine the man's mind working quickly, trying to spot hidden meanings or traps.
"Your orders were brief, sir. I was to lead one of the boarding parties." He waited while Jenkins wrote the sentence and then looked at Ramage, as if waiting for the next question. Then he added: "And I was to help secure the captain."
Goddard neither shouted nor banged the table: he was learning quickly how to deal with questions and answers he did not want in the trial minutes. "Strike out the last part of that reply."
Ramage took a step forward. "May I ask why, sir?"
"Indeed you may; that is your privilege," Goddard said amiably. "The question is not allowed because it has nothing to do with the question asked by the prosecutor. I warned you about that a few moments ago, and your very first question ignored the warning."
"But sir, Captain Shirley asked about Lieutenant Aitken's role. Tell the deputy judge advocate to read out that part of the minutes. If Captain Shirley can ask Lieutenant Aitken about his role, surely I can - I am the one on trial!"
"Your question did not ask Lieutenant Aitken about his role," Goddard said, his voice oozing with reasonableness. "You asked him what orders you gave him."
"But my orders concerned his role!" Ramage protested. "He answered that he was to lead a boarding party -"
"Exactly," snapped Goddard. "That was the answer to the question. If the witness decides that is his answer to the prosecutor's question, that is the end of it. You can only question him on that."
Ramage knew that Goddard held too many aces. The president controlled what Jenkins wrote down in the minutes: he controlled the questions asked; he controlled the answers given because he could always order sentences struck out of the minutes on the grounds of them not being relevant. Who could argue - there was no record of - Ramage's question, the witness's reply or of Goddard's reason for striking anything out. In theory the safeguard for the accused (and the witnesses, for that matter) lay in the members of the court, the captains sitting round the table. But those captains, Ramage understood only too well, were serving officers with careers (and therefore promotion) to think about. The defect in the system was in making the president of the court the senior officer. In ports of the United Kingdom it was usually the second-in-command to the commander-in-chief; abroad a flag officer if available, otherwise the senior captain. It would be a bold and foolhardy captain who argued with a flag officer whose gossip, let alone a written report, would lose him his command and ensure that he would stay on half-pay for the rest of his life ... on the beach drawing half-pay while the other captains round the table, who had kept their mouths shut, went on to find glory and prize money in battle.