Sailors on the Inward Sea by Lawrence Thornton Page A

defensiveness, victimization, or any of the lesser vices we employ to comfort ourselves and justify our actions. He believed that Fox-Bourne thought he had acted according to the dictates of a twice-broken heart that trumped the legalisms he was there to hear. In a strange way, that selflessness saved him from Conrad’s utter contempt. In his own mind, Fox-Bourne had simply been the medium through which justice was fulfilled.
    On the other hand, Chambers, Higgins, and Scorsby looked miserable. Conrad believed they were as sickened by what had happened as he was, a belief they confirmed later when they testified, and there was the added weight of the repercussions from speaking against their captain. But they had no choice if they wanted to live with themselves. The dilemma was clearly on the helmsman’s mind when he came in, flanked by two solicitors. When they were all standing behind the chairs at the long table the tension in the room was electric, as if they were gathered around a mast that had just that moment been struck by lightning, the air hissing and full of the smell of burning. From the corridor came the sound of more footsteps. Admiral Worthy preceded two senior officers, followed at a respectful distance by their aides-de-camp. Thin and tall, well over six feet, the admiral moved quickly to the table, where he put down a thick bundle of papers and regarded the men before him from beneath bushy eyebrows.
    â€œPlease be seated,” he said.
    Conrad took the chair at the far left. Chambers, Higgins, Scorsby, the helmsman, and one of the laywers sat down in that order, followed by Fox-Bourne and his advocate. Nodding left and right, Admiral Worthy introduced Commanders Wilson and Austen, distinguished-looking chaps in their own right, though there was no question that the authority of the board rested with Worthy. Afterlooking over a few sheets of paper he had withdrawn from a folder, he cleared his throat and leaned forward, explaining that the inquiry had been called to investigate the ramming of the German U-boat Die Valkerie by the Brigadier to determine if there had been any fault in the conduct of the rescue operation mounted after the submarine went down.
    â€œI am a patient man,” he said, “a man who believes in facts, not opinions. Keep that in mind during your testimonies. What happened, where, when. Captain Fox-Bourne, I know this is distressing. Please bear with us. Perhaps you could give the board your view of the events.”
    In a calm, measured voice, Fox-Bourne described the weather that morning as if he were reading from a climatological chart, including wind directions and speeds, the anticipated height of the swells, the parameters of the fog north, south, and east of Lowestoft. He said that under such conditions he would normally have delayed putting out until the fog had begun to lift, but with convoys of merchant ships due in the area within the next few days he was obliged to clear the lanes of mines. Worthy nodded, listening with his head slightly cocked as Fox-Bourne said that he had proceeded at “slow ahead,” posting one of his most reliable junior officers, Whelan, as lookout. The fog had lifted only moments before they sighted the U-boat, too late to avoid striking her. And it was a matter of minutes after the ships had drifted apart that a German officer shot Whelan in cold blood. That was when he had ordered his men to open fire.
    Fox-Bourne’s solicitor asked to address the board. He believed it was important to point out that Captain Fox-Bourne had done his duty under the most trying personal circumstances, circumstances that might well have incapacitated other men. Only three months before the incident his son, Edward, had died when the merchant vessel he sailed on was sunk by a torpedo. A handful of men whosurvived by clinging to debris later testified that the submarine, which had surfaced, offered no assistance to the men in the water. The