BALTIMORE, MARYLAND. The fog had barely lifted over the Patapsco River when the full horror of bureaucratic inertia became clear. The operator of the Dali, the container ship that spectacularly rearranged the Francis Scott Key Bridge last week, has been charged.

Charged! As if one could slap a speeding ticket on a fallen skyline. The charge?

'Negligent navigation,' a term so delightfully understated it could only have been cooked up in a room full of marine solicitors sipping lukewarm tea from bone china cups. But here is the wrinkle that has the legal establishment reaching for the smelling salts: British maritime law is now under scrutiny. Yes, British maritime law, that grand old dame of the high seas, draped in centuries of precedent and smelling faintly of salt and empire.

She stands accused of being a bit too permissive, a bit too fond of the 'gentlemen's agreement' and the 'nod and a wink' approach to safety. The Dali, you see, is flagged in Singapore but operated by a British company, and therein lies the rub. The Maryland prosecutor, a man whose job title seems to involve a great deal of 'for the record' and 'let the record show', has declared that 'accountability will be sought'.

But accountability for whom? The captain, who is currently in a state of shock? The shipowner, whose assets are conveniently tucked away in a labyrinth of holding companies?

Or the entire tottering edifice of international maritime regulation, which seems to have been designed by a committee of sleep-deprived octopuses? The bridge collapse, which turned a piece of American infrastructure into a pile of bent rebar and tragic memory, has exposed a truth that nobody wants to admit: that the sea is a lawless place, governed by flags of convenience and insurance loopholes. And now, with the scent of blood in the water, the vultures are circling.

British maritime law, that hallowed patchwork of ancient statutes and common sense exceptions, is in the crosshairs. 'It's an outrage,' spluttered a spokesman for the Maritime and Coastguard Agency, a man whose voice quivered with the existential dread of a librarian watching a toddler approach a bookshelf. 'Our laws are robust and world-leading.

' World-leading! I can almost hear the punchline: 'And the world's leading cause of maritime disasters.' But let us not be too hasty.

The charge itself is a single, slender reed upon which to hang an entire system. 'Negligent navigation?' One might as well charge a hurricane with 'bad manners'.

The Dali's crew, those forgotten foot soldiers of global trade, were reportedly in the act of performing a 'controlled manoeuvre' when the ship decided it would rather be a battering ram. Controlled? As controlled as a toddler in a china shop.

The investigation, which is already being described as 'thorough and impartial', will likely take years. By the time the lawyers have finished their little dance, the bridge will have been rebuilt, the families will have collected their insurance payouts, and the Dali will be hauling containers on some other route, her past sins scrubbed clean by the passage of time and the amnesia of the maritime industry. But for now, let us enjoy this fleeting moment of excitement.

The charge has been laid. British maritime law is on trial. And somewhere, in a quiet pub in Southampton, an admiralty lawyer is ordering a double scotch and preparing his defence.