Chapter Chapter 18 · 第18章

The unhappy event which has been narrated could not have happened at a

worse juncture. For it was close on the heel of the suppressed

insurrections, an after-time very critical to naval authority, demanding

from every English sea-commander two qualities not readily

interfusable--prudence and rigour. Moreover, there was something crucial

in the case.

In the jugglery of circumstances preceding and attending the event on

board the _Indomitable_, and in the light of that martial code whereby

it was formally to be judged, innocence and guilt, personified in

Claggart and Budd, in effect changed places.

In the legal view, the apparent victim of the tragedy was he who had

sought to victimise a man blameless; and the indisputable deed of the

latter, navally regarded, constituted the most heinous of military

crimes. Yet more. The essential right and wrong involved in the matter,

the clearer that might be, so much the worse for the responsibility of a

loyal sea-commander, inasmuch as he was authorised to determine the

matter on that primitive legal basis.

Small wonder then that the _Indomitable’s_ captain, though in general a

man of rigid decision, felt that circumspectness not less than

promptitude was necessary. Until he could decide upon his course, and in

each detail, and not only so, but until the concluding measure was upon

the point of being enacted, he deemed it advisable, in view of all the

circumstances, to guard as much as possible against publicity. Here he

may or may not have erred. Certain it is, however, that subsequently in

the confidential talk of more than one or two gun-rooms and cabins he

was not a little criticised by some officers, a fact imputed by his

friends, and vehemently by his cousin Jack Denton, to professional

jealousy of Starry Vere. Some imaginative ground for invidious comment

there was. The maintenance of secrecy in the matter, the confining all

knowledge of it for a time to the place where the homicide occurred--the

quarter-deck cabin; in these particulars lurked some resemblance to the

policy adopted in those tragedies of the palace which have occurred more

than once in the capital founded by Peter the Barbarian, great chiefly

by his crimes.

The case was such that fain would the _Indomitable’s_ captain have

deferred taking any action whatever respecting it further than to keep

the foretopman a close prisoner till the ship rejoined the squadron, and

then submitting the matter to the judgment of his admiral.

But a true military officer is in one particular like a true monk. Not

with more of self-abnegation will the latter keep his vows of monastic

obedience than the former his vows of allegiance to martial duty.

Feeling that unless quick action was taken on it, the deed of the

foretopman, as soon as it should be known on the gun-decks, would tend

to awaken any slumbering embers of the Nore among the crew, a sense of

the urgency of the case overruled in Captain Vere every other

consideration. But though a conscientious disciplinarian he was no lover

of authority for mere authority’s sake. Very far was he from embracing

opportunities for monopolising to himself the perils of moral

responsibility, none at least that could properly be referred to an

official superior, or shared with him by his official equals, or even

subordinates. So thinking, he was glad it would not be at variance with

usage to turn the matter over to a summary court of his own officers,

reserving to himself, as the one on whom the ultimate accountability

would rest, the right of maintaining a supervision of it, or formally or

informally interposing at need. Accordingly a drum-head court was

summarily convened, he electing the individuals composing it--the first

lieutenant, the captain of marines, and the sailing-master.

In associating an officer of marines with the sea-lieutenant in a case

having to do with a sailor, the commander perhaps deviated from general

custom. He was prompted thereto by the circumstance that he took that

soldier to be a judicious person, thoughtful and not altogether

incapable of grappling with a difficult case unprecedented in his prior

experience. Yet even as to him he was not without some latent misgiving,

for withal he was an extremely good-natured man, an enjoyer of his

dinner, a sound sleeper, and inclined to obesity. The sort of man who,

though he would always maintain his manhood in battle, might not prove

altogether reliable in a moral dilemma involving aught of the tragic. As

to the first lieutenant and the sailing-master, Captain Vere could not

but be aware that though honest natures, of approved gallantry upon

occasion, their intelligence was mostly confined to the matter of active

seamanship, and the fighting demands of their profession. The court was

held in the same cabin where the unfortunate affair had taken place.

This cabin, the commander’s, embraced the entire area under the

poop-deck. Aft, and on either side, was a small state-room--the one room

temporarily a jail, and the other a dead-house--and a yet smaller

compartment leaving a space between, expanding forward into a goodly

oblong of length coinciding with the ship’s beam. A skylight of moderate

dimensions was overhead, and at each end of the oblong space were two

sashed port-hole windows easily convertible back into embrasures for

short carronades.

All being quickly in readiness, Billy Budd was arraigned, Captain Vere

necessarily appearing as the sole witness in the case, and as such

temporarily sinking his rank, though singularly maintaining it in a

matter apparently trivial, namely, that he testified from the ship’s

weather-side, with that object having caused the court to sit on the

lee-side. Concisely he narrated all that had led up to the catastrophe,

omitting nothing in Claggart’s accusation, and deposing as to the manner

in which the prisoner had received it. At this testimony the three

officers glanced with no little surprise at Billy Budd, the last man

they would have suspected, either of mutinous design alleged by

Claggart, or of the undeniable deed he himself had done. The first

lieutenant taking judicial primary, and turning toward the prisoner,

said, ‘Captain Vere has spoken. Is it or is it not as Captain Vere

says?’ In response came syllables not so much impeded in the utterance

as might have been anticipated. They were these:--

‘Captain Vere tells the truth. It is just as Captain Vere says, but it

is not as the master-at-arms said. I have eaten the King’s bread, and I

am true to the King.’

‘I believe you, my man,’ said the witness, his voice indicating a

suppressed emotion not otherwise betrayed.

‘God will bless you for that, your honour!’ not without stammering, said

Billy, and all but broke down. But immediately was recalled to

self-control by another question, to which with the same emotional

difficulty of utterance he said, ‘No, there was no malice between us. I

never bore malice against the master-at-arms. I am sorry that he is

dead. I did not mean to kill him. Could I have used my tongue I would

not have struck him. But he foully lied to my face, and in the presence

of my captain, and I had to say something, and I could only say it with

a blow. God help me!’

In the impulsive above-board manner of the frank one the court saw

confirmed all that was implied in words that just previously had

perplexed them coming as they did from the testifier to the tragedy, and

promptly following Billy’s impassioned disclaimer of mutinous

intent--Captain Vere’s words, ‘I believe you, my man.’

Next, it was asked of him whether he knew of or suspected aught

savouring of incipient trouble (meaning mutiny, though the explicit term

was avoided) going on in any section of the ship’s company.

The reply lingered. This was naturally imputed by the court to the same

vocal embarrassment which had retarded or obstructed previous answers.

But in main it was otherwise here; the question immediately recalling to

Billy’s mind the interview with the afterguardsman in the fore-chains.

But an innate repugnance to playing a part at all approaching that of an

informer against one’s own shipmates--the same erring sense of

uninstructed honour which had stood in the way of his reporting the

matter at the time, though as a loyal man-of-war’s man it was incumbent

on him, and failure so to do it charged against him and proven, would

have subjected him to the heaviest of penalties. This, with the blind

feeling now his, that nothing really was being hatched, prevailed with

him. When the answer came it was a negative.

‘One question more,’ said the officer of marines now first speaking, and

with a troubled earnestness. ‘You tell us that what the master-at-arms

said against you was a lie. Now why should he have so lied, so

maliciously lied, since you declare there was no malice between you?’

At that question, unintentionally touching on a spiritual sphere, wholly

obscure to Billy’s thoughts, he was nonplussed, evincing a confusion

indeed that some observers, such as can be imagined, would have

construed into involuntary evidence of hidden guilt. Nevertheless he

strove some way to answer, but all at once relinquished the vain

endeavour, at the same time turning an appealing glance towards Captain

Vere, as deeming him his best helper and friend. Captain Vere, who had

been seated for a time, rose to his feet, addressing the interrogator.

‘The question you put to him comes naturally enough. But how can he

rightly answer it, or anybody else? unless indeed it be he who lies

within there,’ designating the compartment where lay the corpse. ‘But

the prone one there will not rise to our summons. In effect though, as

it seems to me, the point you make is hardly material. Quite aside from

any conceivable motive actuating the master-at-arms, and irrespective of

the provocation of the blow, a martial court must needs in the present

case confine its attention to the blow’s consequence, which consequence

is to be deemed not otherwise than as the striker’s deed!’

This utterance, the full significance of which it was not at all likely

that Billy took in, nevertheless caused him to turn a wistful,

interrogative look toward the speaker, a look in its dumb expressiveness

not unlike that which a dog of generous breed might turn upon his

master, seeking in his face some elucidation of a previous gesture

ambiguous to the canine intelligence. Nor was the same utterance without

marked effect upon the three officers, more especially the soldier.

Couched in it seemed to them a meaning unanticipated, involving a

prejudgment on the speaker’s part. It served to augment a mental

disturbance previously evident enough.

The soldier once more spoke, in a tone of suggestive dubiety addressing

at once his associates and Captain Vere: ‘Nobody is present--none of the

ship’s company, I mean, who might shed lateral light, if any is to be

had, upon what remains mysterious in this matter.’

‘That is thoughtfully put,’ said Captain Vere; ‘I see your drift. Ay,

there is a mystery; but to use a Scriptural phrase, it is “a mystery of

iniquity,” a matter for psychological theologians to discuss. But what

has a military court to do with it? Not to add that for us, any possible

investigation of it is cut off by the lasting tongue-tie of--him--in

yonder,’ again designating the mortuary state-room. ‘The prisoner’s

deed. With that alone we have to do.’

To this, and particularly the closing reiteration, the marine soldier,

knowing not how aptly to reply, sadly abstained from saying aught. The

first lieutenant, who at the outset had not unnaturally assumed primacy

in the court, now over-rulingly instructed by a glance from Captain

Vere, a glance more effective than words, resumed that primacy. Turning

to the prisoner: ‘Budd,’ he said, and scarce in equable tones, ‘Budd, if

you have aught further to say for yourself, say it now.’

Upon this the young sailor turned another quick glance toward Captain

Vere; then, as taking a hint from that aspect, a hint confirming his own

instinct that silence was now best, replied to the lieutenant, ‘I have

said all, sir.’

The marine--the same who had been the sentinel without the cabin-door at

the time that the foretopman, followed by the master-at-arms, entered

it--he, standing by the sailor throughout their judicial proceedings,

was now directed to take him back to the after-compartment originally

assigned to the prisoner and his custodian. As the twain disappeared

from view, the three officers, as partially liberated from some inward

constraint associated with Billy’s mere presence, simultaneously stirred

in their seats. They exchanged looks of troubled indecision, yet feeling

that decide they must and without long delay, for Captain Vere was for

the time sitting unconsciously with his back toward them, apparently in

one of his absent fits, gazing out from a sashed port-hole to windward

upon the monotonous blank of the twilight sea. But the court’s silence

continuing, broken only at moments by brief consultations in low,

earnest tones, this seemed to assure him and encourage him. Turning, he

to and fro paced the cabin athwart; in the returning ascent to windward,

climbing the slant deck in the ship’s lee roll; without knowing it

symbolising thus in his action a mind resolute to surmount difficulties

even if against primitive instincts strong as the wind and the sea.

Presently he came to a stand before the three. After scanning their

faces he stood less as mustering his thoughts for expression, than as

one only deliberating how best to put them to well-meaning men not

intellectually mature, men with whom it was necessary to demonstrate

certain principles that were axioms to himself. Similar impatience as to

talking is perhaps one reason that deters some minds from addressing any

popular assemblies; under which head is to be classed most legislatures

in a democracy.

When speak he did, something both in the substance of what he said and

his manner of saying it, showed the influence of unshared studies

modifying and tempering the practical training of an active career.

This, along with his phraseology now and then, was suggestive of the

grounds whereon rested that imputation of a certain pedantry socially

alleged against him by certain naval men of wholly practical cast,

captains who nevertheless would frankly concede that His Majesty’s Navy

mustered no more efficient officers of their grade than _Starry Vere_.

What he said was to this effect: ‘Hitherto I have been but the witness,

little more; and I should hardly think now to take another tone, that of

your coadjutor, for the time, did I not perceive in you--at the crisis

too--a troubled hesitancy, proceeding, I doubt not, from the clashing of

military duty with moral scruple--scruple vitalised by compassion. For

the compassion, how can I otherwise but share it. But, mindful of

paramount obligation, I strive against scruples that may tend to

enervate decision. Not, gentlemen, that I hide from myself that the case

is an exceptional one. Speculatively regarded, it well might be referred

to a jury of casuists. But for us here, acting not as casuists or

moralists, it is a case practical and under martial law practically to

be dealt with.

‘But your scruples! Do they move as in a dusk? Challenge them. Make them

advance and declare themselves. Come now: do they impart something like

this: If, mindless of palliating circumstances, we are bound to regard

the death of the master-at-arms as the prisoner’s deed, then does that

deed constitute a capital crime whereof the penalty is a mortal one. But

in natural justice is nothing but the prisoner’s overt act to be

considered? Now can we adjudge to summary and shameful death a

fellow-creature innocent before God, and whom we feel to be so?--Does

that state it aright? You sign sad assent. Well, I too feel that, the

full force of that. It is Nature. But do these buttons that we wear

attest that our allegiance is to Nature? No, to the King. Though the

ocean, which is inviolate Nature primeval, though this be the element

where we move and have our being as sailors, yet as the King’s officers

lies our duty in a sphere correspondingly natural? So little is that

true, that in receiving our commissions we in the most important regards

ceased to be natural free agents. When war is declared, are we the

commissioned fighters previously consulted? We fight at command. If our

judgments approve the war, that is but coincidence. So in other

particulars. So now, would it be so much we ourselves that would condemn

as it would be martial law operating through us? For that law and the

rigour of it, we are not responsible. Our vowed responsibility is in

this: That however pitilessly that law may operate, we nevertheless

adhere to it and administer it.

‘But the exceptional in the matter moves the heart within you. Even so,

too, is mine moved. But let not warm hearts betray heads that should be

cool. Ashore in a criminal case will an upright judge allow himself off

the bench to be waylaid by some tender kinswoman of the accused seeking

to touch him with her tearful plea? Well, the heart here is as that

piteous woman. The heart is the feminine in man, and hard though it be,

she must here be ruled out.’

He paused, earnestly studying them for a moment; then resumed.

‘But something in your aspect seems to urge that it is not solely that

heart that moves in you, but also the conscience, the private

conscience. But tell me whether or not, occupying the position we do,

private conscience should not yield to that imperial one formulated in

the code under which alone we officially proceed?’

Here the three men moved in their seats, less convinced than agitated by

the course of an argument troubling but the more the spontaneous

conflict within. Perceiving which, the speaker paused for a moment; then

abruptly changing his tone, went on.

‘To steady us a bit, let us recur to the facts. In war-time at sea a

man-of-war’s man strikes his superior in grade, and the blow kills.

Apart from its effect, the blow itself is, according to the Articles of

War, a capital crime. Furthermore----’

‘Ay, sir,’ emotionally broke in the officer of marines, ‘in one sense it

was. But surely Budd purposed neither mutiny nor homicide.’

‘Surely not, my good man. And before a court less arbitrary and more

merciful than a martial one that plea would largely extenuate. At the

Last Assizes it shall acquit. But how here? We proceed under the law of

the Mutiny Act. In feature no child can resemble his father more than

that Act resembles in spirit the thing from which it derives--War. In

His Majesty’s service--in this ship indeed--there are Englishmen forced

to fight for the King against their will. Against their conscience, for

aught we know. Though as their fellow-creatures some of us may

appreciate their position, yet as Navy officers, what reck we of it?

Still less recks the enemy. Our impressed men he would fain cut down in

the same swath with our volunteers. As regards the enemy’s naval

conscripts, some of whom may even share our own abhorrence of the

regicidal French Directory, it is the same on our side. War looks but to

the frontage, the appearance. And the Mutiny Act, War’s child, takes

after the father. Budd’s intent or non-intent is nothing to the purpose.

‘But while, put to it by those anxieties in you which I cannot but

respect, I only repeat myself--while thus strangely we prolong

proceedings that should be summary, the enemy may be sighted and an

engagement result. We must do; and one of two things must we do--condemn

or let go.’

‘Can we not convict and yet mitigate the penalty?’ asked the junior

lieutenant, here speaking, and falteringly, for the first.

‘Lieutenant, were that clearly lawful for us under the circumstances,

consider the consequences of such clemency. The people’ (meaning the

ship’s company) ‘have native sense; most of them are familiar with our

naval usage and tradition; and how would they take it? Even could you

explain to them--which our official position forbids--they, long moulded

by arbitrary discipline, have not that kind of intelligent

responsiveness that might qualify them to comprehend and discriminate.

No, to the people the foretopman’s deed, however it be worded in the

announcement, will be plain homicide committed in a flagrant act of

mutiny. What penalty for that should follow, they know. But it does not

follow. _Why?_ they will ruminate. You know what sailors are. Will they

not revert to the recent outbreak at the Nore? Ay, they know the

well-founded alarm--the panic it struck throughout England. Your clement

sentence they would account pusillanimous. They would think that we

flinch, that we are afraid of them--afraid of practising a lawful rigour

singularly demanded at this juncture lest it should provoke new

troubles. What shame to us such a conjecture on their part, and how

deadly to discipline. You see then whither, prompted by duty and the

law, I steadfastly drive. But I beseech you, my friends, do not take me

amiss. I feel as you do for this unfortunate boy. But did he know our

hearts, I take him to be of that generous nature that he would feel even

for us on whom in this military necessity so heavy a compulsion is

laid.’

With that, crossing the deck, he resumed his place by the sashed

port-hole, tacitly leaving the three to come to a decision. On the

cabin’s opposite side the troubled court sat silent. Loyal lieges, plain

and practical, though at bottom they dissented from some points Captain

Vere had put to them, they were without the faculty, hardly had the

inclination to gainsay one whom they felt to be an earnest man, one,

too, not less their superior in mind than in naval rank. But it is not

improbable that even such of his words as were not without influence

over them, came home to them less than his closing appeal to their

instinct as sea-officers. He forecasted the practical consequences to

discipline (considering the unconfirmed tone of the fleet at the time),

if violent killing at sea by a man-of-war’s man of a superior in grade

were allowed to pass for aught else than a capital crime, and one

demanding prompt infliction of the penalty.

Not unlikely they were brought to something more or less akin to that

harassed frame of mind which in the year 1842 actuated the commander of

the U.S. brig-of-war _Somers_ to resolve, under the so-called Articles

of War, Articles modelled upon the English Mutiny Act, to resolve upon

the execution at sea of a midshipman and two petty officers as mutineers

designing the seizure of the brig. Which resolution was carried out

though in a time of peace and within not many days’ sail of home. An act

vindicated by a naval court of inquiry subsequently convened ashore.

History, and here cited without comment. True, the circumstances on

board the _Somers_ were different from those on board the _Indomitable_.

But the urgency felt, well warranted or otherwise, was much the same.

Says a writer whom few know, ‘Forty years after a battle it is easy for

a non-combatant to reason about how it ought to have been fought. It is

another thing personally and under fire to direct the fighting while

involved in the obscuring smoke of it. Much so with respect to other

emergencies involving considerations both practical and moral, and when

it is imperative promptly to act. The greater the fog the more it

imperils the steamer, and speed is put on though at the hazard of

running somebody down. Little ween the snug card-players in the cabin of

the responsibilities of the sleepless man on the bridge.’

In brief, Billy Budd was formally convicted and sentenced to be hung at

the yard-arm in the early morning-watch, it being now night. Otherwise,

as is customary in such cases, the sentence would forthwith have been

carried out. In war-time on the field or in the fleet, a mortal

punishment decreed by a drum-head court--on the field sometimes decreed

by but a nod from the general--follows without delay on the heel of

conviction without appeal.

------------------------------------------------------------------------