“Aye-aye, sir.” Coleman stiffened, then shuffled his way past the sailors blocking the forward passageway.
Van Peenan fostered a smirk as the room quieted down. Edwards saw it and was immediately annoyed.
“And you, Commander Van Peenan, will refrain from speaking unless I ask you to speak. Understood?” He waited for Van Peenan to nod before continuing to the mass of sailors. “That goes for all of you! I don’t know what’s gotten into you! Captain’s mast is no time for levity!”
Edwards could see he had their attention now. Their smiles had faded.
“I know you’ve been at sea a long time. I know you haven’t seen your families in six months. But you’re all submariners! You volunteered for this, nobody forced you. You made a commitment to the navy, to your families, to your friends, that you’d be the ones to stand watch for our country under the ocean. It’s not an easy job. Nobody ever told you it would be. Sometimes it just plain sucks. Now, I know you’re all here for different reasons, but you all have a common duty to your ship and to your shipmates. And I guarantee you that if I find anyone slacking in that duty, I won’t hesitate to do my duty.”
They looked like beaten dogs. He could see the longing for home in their faces. Some looked back at him, some stared at the deck, others looked at the overhead. He knew they were reaching the end of their usefulness. They’d spent too much time underwater, but he had to summon every last ounce of personal honor from their souls. It was the only way to get them through the next two weeks.
“Understood?” he said finally with his most confident and fatherly grin.
“Yes, sir!” came the congregational reply. Some of them smiled, others didn’t.
He heard Bloomfield clear his throat. The large man pushed his glasses up with his thumb, his eyebrows raised in abject disdain. Edwards wasn’t sure if it was directed toward him or the crew, but he suspected the former.
“In the absence of the investigating officer,” Edwards said, resuming the businesslike demeanor appropriate for captain’s mast, “I’d like to hear what Petty Officer Dean has to say. Tell me, Dean, why didn’t you get enough sleep before going on watch that night?”
Dean glanced briefly at Van Peenan with only his eyes, before answering.
“I was up all day, Captain. I was painting the bilge in engine room lower level. I painted all day, and into the evening, right up to when my watch began. But I wasn’t the only one. The whole division was painting. Engineer’s orders, sir.”
“The bilge in engine room lower level?” Edwards said inquisitively. “I was down there just yesterday. Wasn’t your division painting that bilge when I walked through there yesterday?”
“We were repainting it, sir.”
“That bilge couldn’t need repainting in just under two weeks, MM3.”
“Yes, sir, it did. Or the engineer thought it did, sir. He found a spot of rust. Ordered us to paint it all over again. Fore to aft, sir.”
Edwards shot a glance at Van Peenan, but the engineer avoided making eye contact with him. He simply stared forward blinking his eyes in long uneven blinks. He obviously wanted to speak, to refute Dean’s testimony, but Edwards would never let him in his current condition.
It was all very clear to Edwards now. Van Peenan was pushing his men too hard. The ORSE failure was making him paranoid and he was taking it out on his men. Repainting a bilge which required painting only once a year was beyond harsh, and he was sure it was just the tip of the iceberg. He had seen it all before on other boats, of course, and unless he put a stop to it there would be more incidents like this one. Still, he had to show to the men that Dean’s actions, though not entirely his fault, could not be tolerated.
“What about the division officer and division chief?” Edwards asked, looking down the file of officers past the engineer. “Ensign Yi, Chief Hans, do you have anything to add? Was Dean being pushed too hard? Was he adequately rested in your opinion?”
Ensign Yi stood in silence on Van Peenan’s left. Beside him, Chief Hans shrugged in response to the captain’s question. Yi said nothing.
“Mr. Yi?” Edwards prompted.
“Yes, Captain,” he uttered weakly.
“Are you paying attention, Ensign?” Edwards said impatiently. “Do you have anything to add?”
Yi wanted to blurt it all out. To tell the truth, that the engineer was a tyrant. That Dean was a hard worker and a good sailor. That he needed a break this time. He wanted to say all of these things, but he didn’t dare. The hair stood up on the back of his neck as he caught a glimpse of Van Peenan’s veiny fist clenched tight at his side. It was a small signal that Van Peenan was waiting for his answer too, and Yi knew there would be hell to pay later if it was not the right one.
“I’m waiting, Mr. Yi!”
“Y-yes, Captain,” Yi hesitated after one searching glance at Dean, then added, “I don’t have anything to add, sir.”
Yi thought he saw a twitch in Dean’s face, but it quickly reverted to the same emotionless expression that had been there before, and Yi immediately hated himself. He had had the chance to speak up for this man in his division, this man who’d done nothing but make a small mistake under duress, but he couldn’t find the courage within himself. What kind of a division officer was he not to stand up for one of his sailors? What kind of a man?
He immediately wanted to take it all back and do the right thing. He turned to the captain and was about to speak but Edwards, flipping through the courts-martial manual, didn’t see him.
“With no more statements to be admitted,” Edwards said, “I find MM3 Dean guilty of the charge of dereliction of duty.”
Yi flushed deep red. It was done now. His last minute courage had come too late. He noticed an evil grin appear on Van Peenan’s face at the reading of the verdict.
“MM3 Dean,” the captain continued, “you have been found guilty, and I sentence you to forty-five days restriction in port, reduction in rank, and three months on half pay.”
Dean briefly closed his eyes, and the room appeared collectively shocked. The sentence was harsh. Dean had a wife and two children and he hadn’t seen them for six months. Under the restriction sentence he was confined to the ship, not allowed to physically leave until Providence had been in port for forty-five days. As if that wasn’t enough, his family would have to learn how to get by on half a paycheck for the next few months.
Yi wished he could tell Dean he was sorry. A low murmur in the room became a noticeable mumbling. The crew obviously thought the sentence was too much, but Van Peenan seemed ecstatic. Bloomfield was indifferent, thumbing his glasses as he scribbled the judgment and the sentence on the mast report form. As he reached over to gather up the manual on the table, Edwards stopped him.
“I’m not finished, XO.”
Bloomfield looked confused, as did everyone else in the room. The verdict had been reached, the sentence pronounced. What else remained?
Edwards locked eyes with Dean and said sternly, “The sentence is suspended until further review of MM3 Dean’s performance.”
“Suspended … What the …?” Van Peenan interjected, suddenly very hostile. “Captain, I object—”
“This isn’t a damn courtroom, Commander!” Edwards shouted lividly at Van Peenan. “And you’re not a damn lawyer! So stand there and be silent!”
Van Peenan quickly returned to attention, red-faced, with veins bulging from his temples. Yi instinctively moved a few millimeters backward to try to hide as much of himself behind Van Peenan and out of the captain’s view. Edwards had a look that could melt a reactor core.
“Do you understand, Dean?” Edwards said, turning his attention back to the rigid sailor. “I’m suspending this sentence, hoping you’ll improve your performance and that we’ll see no more haphazard procedures performed in the engine room.”