Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [239]
Challee called Captain Randolph P. Southard, a dapper, lean officer with a hard-bitten face and close-cropped head, whose ribbons and medals made three colorful rows over his breast pocket. The judge advocate quickly brought out that Southard was the commander of Destroyer Squadron Eight, and had commanded destroyers of several types, including World War I four-pipers, for ten years. He was Challee’s expert witness on ship handling.
Southard testified that under typhoon conditions a destroyer rode just as well going down-wind as up-wind. In fact, he said, because of a destroyer’s high freeboard forward it tended to back into the wind. Therefore, if anything, it was more manageable with the wind astern. He asserted that Queeg’s efforts to stay on the fleet’s southerly course had been the soundest possible procedure for getting out of the typhoon danger; and that Maryk’s decision to turn north had been a dubious and dangerous one, because it had kept the ship in the direct path of the storm.
Greenwald opened his cross-examination by saying, “Captain Southard, have you ever conned a ship through the center of a typhoon?”
“Negative. Been on the fringes often but always managed to avoid the center.”
“Have you ever commanded a destroyer-minesweeper, sir?”
“Negative.”
“This case, sir, concerns a destroyer-minesweeper at the center of a typhoon-”
“I’m aware of that,” Southard said frostily. “I’ve had DMS’s under my command in screens, and I’ve read the book on ’em. They don’t differ from destroyers except in details of topside weight characteristics.”
“I ask these questions, Captain, because you are the only expert witness on ship handling and the extent of your expert knowledge should be clear to the court.”
“That’s all right. I’ve handled destroyer types in almost every conceivable situation for ten years. Haven’t handled a DMS at the center of a typhoon, no, but I don’t know who has besides the skipper of the Caine. It’s a thousand-to-one shot.”
“Will you state without reservation that the rules of destroyer handling would hold for a DMS in the center of a typhoon?”
“Well, at the center of a typhoon there are no hard-and-fast rules. That’s one situation where it’s all up to the commanding officer. Too many strange things happen too fast. But seamanship is seamanship.”
“A hypothetical question, Captain. Assuming you are conning a destroyer in winds and seas worse than any you have ever experienced. You are wallowing broadside. You actually believe your ship is foundering. You are in the last extremity. Would you try to bring your ship head into wind, or stern to wind?”
“That’s a mighty hypothetical question.”
“Yes, sir. Don’t you wish to answer it?”
“I’ll answer it. In the last extremity I’d head into the wind if I could. Only in the last extremity.”
“Why, sir?”
“Why, because your engines and rudder have the best purchase that way, that’s all, and it’s your last chance to keep control of your ship.”
“But suppose heading into the wind would mean remaining in the path of a storm instead of escaping?”
“First things first. If you’re on the verge of foundering you’re as bad off as you can get. Mind you, you said the last extremity.”
“Yes, sir. No further questions.”
Challee stood at once. “Captain, in your opinion who is the best judge as to whether a ship is in its last extremity?”
“There is only one judge. The commanding officer.”
“Why?”
“The Navy has made him captain because his knowledge of the sea and of ships is better than anyone else’s on the ship. It’s very common for subordinate officers to think the ship is a goner when all they’re going through is a little weather.”
“Don’t you think, though, sir, that when his subordinates all agree that the ship is going down the captain ought to listen to them?”
“Negative! Panic is a common hazard at sea. The highest function of command is to override it and to listen to nothing but the voice of his own judgment.”
“Thank you, Captain.”