Free Ramage's Mutiny by Dudley Pope

for their lives.
    Ramage rubbed a scar over his right eyebrow. He could imagine what each of the men was thinking. Each was trying to relate this moment with the time two years ago when a yelling horde of their shipmates seized the
Jocasta
and murdered the Captain and officers. Had these men been terrified onlookers, active mutineers, or the men who had actually committed murders? And how was the court to discover the truth?
    Would one of the men stand as witness against the other three—turn “King’s evidence” as it was usually called? Captain Edwards had just explained, over their cups of tea, that there seemed some doubt whether an offer could be made to a prisoner before the trial began—that he would be allowed a free pardon if he gave evidence against the other accused men. Edwards had roundly cursed the fact that there was no judge advocate in the fleet. He and the purser had read through the only available books on naval courts martial, and there was a reference to a famous judge saying that if a man was promised a reward for giving his evidence before he actually gave it, this “disables his testimony.” All five captains knew of cases where one of the accused had “turned King’s evidence” but none of them had been a member of the court when it happened. And Edwards, anxious that there should be no mistakes, had decided to wait and see how the trial proceeded.
    Finally the provost marshal was back, looking harassed but without his pistol, and followed by several officers, including Aitken. Only the Scot was a witness; the rest were onlookers. The moment they were all seated Edwards tapped the table gently with the gavel, obviously careful not to damage the polished wood.
    â€œThe court is in session. Gowers, read the orders.”
    The purser selected several sheets of paper, stood up, adjusted his spectacles and read out the Admiral’s order for assembling the court martial.
    Devon, Ramage thought to himself; the purser is a Devon man. Shrewd, alert, probably a very competent purser. But, like the rest of the court, his knowledge of law extended no further than the pages of the two or three reference books in front of him—and upon whose pages the lives of these four men might well depend. Not even that, because the facts and points of law the books contained were only as relevant as the court’s ability to find them …
    Gowers finally read the warrant appointing him, put down the papers and picked up a Bible. He then walked round to the front of the table, stopping in front of Captain Edwards. He handed him a card as Edwards put his hand on the Bible. Edwards began reading the oath written on the card, and Ramage saw all four prisoners look up.
    â€œI, James Edwards, do swear that I will duly administer justice according to the Articles of War and orders established by an act passed in the twenty-second year of the reign of His Majesty King George II … without partiality or favour or affection; and if any case shall arise which is not particularly mentioned in the said Articles and orders, I will duly administer justice according to my conscience, the best of my understanding, and the custom of the Navy in like cases …”
    Gowers then administered the oath to the other captains in order of seniority, and then himself took an oath that he would never “disclose or discover the vote or opinion of any particular member of this court unless thereunto required by act of Parliament.”
    Now the court was legally in existence, and Gowers sorted through his papers once more, found what he wanted and, when he glanced across at Captain Edwards, received an approving nod. He half turned towards the four prisoners and as if guessing what was coming, three of them stared down at the deck; the fourth, standing at the far end of the line and the oldest among them, almost bald with the round face of a village grocer, kept his eyes on the deputy