CHAPTER XXX

The court of enquiry is assembled in the outer office in the admiral's house. It is a large room, formerly the dining-hall when the house was in the hands of its private owners. The picturesque details of such a room in a Highland home are still to be traced to a certain extent in the ancient oak panelling that covers the walls, and the many antlered heads and other trophies of the chase hanging upon them.

For the rest, the beauty and dignified grandeur of the old hall has given place to a very business-like and official appearance; a long table runs down the centre of the room, covered with books, papers and correspondence. Smaller tables have also been dumped down in any odd corners, and these also are covered with a litter of official documents. And to complete the hideous newness of the changed aspect of the place, the rich, dark panelling is obscured to a large extent by rows of shelves made of glaring varnished deal and divided off into pigeon-holes numbered in black painted figures.

But the picturesque must yield to utility in war time; and the room certainly makes an ideal place for such an enquiry as is now being held in it.

Admiral Darlington is president of the court, and he is assisted by several other officers belonging to the base and the ships attached, captains, commanders, and specialists in various branches.

Every endeavour is naturally made to sift the cause of the disaster to the _Marathon_.

The officers and men saved from her are of course the chief witnesses, and many of them are examined in the most careful manner to find out any facts that may help to throw light upon the occurrence.

A seaman who was one of the look-out men on the foc'sle is now under examination, the particular point at this stage being to try and discover whether the disaster may have been due to a floating mine. The possibility of a moored mine has already been ruled out by the experts, who have stated their opinion that the exact spot where the ship was lost was much too deep for any mine-field to exist.

The seaman gives his answer in a clear and thoughtful way; it is evident that he is a man whose opinion is not lightly formed.

He says he is quite sure in his own mind that there was no floating mine.

"What makes you so certain about it?"

"Because, sir, it was my duty to look out for them, on the starboard side, that is; the night was very clear--it was bright moonlight--and the sea was like glass. A floating mine would show up on such a night just as if it were noonday, and I couldn't help but see one if there was one to be seen."

This is very definite, even if not conclusive. But the port look-out man, who is also among the saved, says the same thing. And the statement is corroborated by several other men who were on the foc'sle at the time.

Presently the interrogations are directed on the possibility of an enemy submarine being responsible; but this also is a suggestion that does not meet with general favour, for a similar reason as in the former case; the wake of a torpedo approaching the ship could hardly have failed to be seen.

"But there _was_ a submarine operating more or less in that locality a short time previously; the steamer _Botopi_ was sunk by one early the same morning."

An officer gets up and replies to this, consulting some notes he has in his hand:

"Yes, that is so. But the course of this particular submarine was traced--she was seen twice for a few moments later in the day; and her course was one that took her right away from the _Marathon_."

"There might have been another submarine?"

Yes, it is agreed, of course, there might have been; but then there is that matter of no wake of a torpedo being seen.

It is all very baffling and inconclusive. One thing at least is certain, namely the place where the explosion occurred. It was for'ard of the engine room, and close to the fore-magazine if not actually in it. And the explosion was so violent that it is practically a certainty that it neither originated there, or else, if it came from outside, must have set up a secondary explosion there almost immediately. The president of the Court rises in his place and looks gravely at one of the _Marathon's_ surviving officers.

"I wish to put to you a very serious question," says the admiral; "one which I trust you will answer with due deliberation, however curious or even foolish you may think it to be. You had on board, that evening, three people you rescued from an open boat, a gentleman and two ladies. Do you consider it at all possible that one, or all, of these three, could have been in any way connected with the disaster that happened to the ship?"

The officer reflects for a moment before replying. "I do not quite see how they could have had anything to do with it," he presently says. "They were merely shipwrecked passengers, rescued by the _Marathon_."

"That is not quite what I meant," the president says. "Let me put my question again in this way: Supposing these three people had had the wish to do some harm to the ship do you think that there was an opportunity for them to do so during the time that they remained on board?"

The witness again considers the question carefully, and having done so answers:

"I cannot give a definite answer to that question. On the whole, I should say it was quite impossible for them to do anything of the sort, as they were to the best of my belief in the after part of the ship the whole time; but I saw little of them myself, and therefore am unable to answer for their movements with complete certainty."

While this witness is giving his evidence, a signalman quietly enters the room and going up to the secretary presents him with a long signal.

"Marked Urgent-Priority, sir," he informs him.

But this is not the place nor the time for bringing signals of this sort, as the signalman ought to know.

"What do you mean by coming in here?" asks Dimsdale in an undertone; "and can't you see for yourself that the thing's in cipher? What's the good of bringing it to me? Take it to Mr. Onslow at once."

"Very good, sir," replies the unabashed signalman; he is quite accustomed to having his missives received with snappy remarks, and takes very little notice of them. So he retreats from the room and once more offers the signal to Mr. Onslow in accordance with the secretary's orders--and again meets with a cold welcome.

Mr. Onslow is an assistant-paymaster of the Royal Naval Reserve, and before the war was in a bank. Now he is acting in the capacity of secretary's clerk, and at present is seated in the drawing-room of the admiral's house, having been turned out of his office by the Court of Enquiry now occupying the room. At his side, on the floor, is a large steel chest, whose open lid displays within a number of thickly bound books of all sizes.

Looking at the signal now placed in his hand, Onslow observes the paper to be covered with long rows of figures in groups of five; and he groans aloud.

"My hat!" he complains bitterly, "if only I'd known what the life of a ruddy A.P. was like, I would have joined up as a domestic, or a bandsman, or anything. I thought I was going to have a life on the ocean wave and a home on the rolling deep, and instead of that here I am stuck in a beastly back drawing-room doing arithmetical puzzles."

So saying, he reaches down to the steel chest and drags out one of the fattest books. Then he proceeds laboriously to decipher the long signal.

He has not got very far on with it before he suddenly begins to show signs of interest. He pulls himself up in his chair and turns over the leaves of his book much more rapidly.

"Hm! Better get a move on with this," he remarks to himself; "it appears to me that it might be useful to those people inside. There's some use in this job, after all!"

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