The Arrogant, where the court martial would be held in the morning, was a seventy-four anchored half a mile to windward of the Lion. Her yards were perfectly square - her master would have made sure of that within a few minutes of anchoring. The enormous fore- and main-yards projected several feet over the side of the ship.
There, within an area of a few square feet, his immediate future would be decided, for the trial would be held in the great cabin. If the five or so captains at a court martial decided on a death sentence it would be carried out just under the foreyard on the starboard side.
First, a yellow flag would be hoisted at the Arrogant's mizen peak and a gun fired, signalling that an execution was to take place. A rope would be rove from a block near the outboard end of the yard. The end of the rope with a noose in it would come down vertically to where the prisoner was standing. The noose would be slipped round his neck, and they would be thoughtful enough to arrange the knot so it was comfortable - he had heard that executioners tended to be apologetic and excessively polite as they set about the preliminaries of their trade. A black hood would be put over the prisoner's head, and there he would wait in the darkness and it would seem a lifetime before he reached eternity.
The other end of the rope would lead down at an angle from that block to a point almost abreast the mainmast. Twenty or so seamen would be holding onto the rope and facing aft. On the deck immediately below where the prisoner was standing a gun would be loaded with a blank charge. Finally the word would be passed to the captain of the Arrogant that all was ready: the noose would be in position round the prisoner's neck, and so would the hood. The seamen would have tailed on to the other end of the rope.
When the Arrogant's captain gave the word, the gunner would apply a steady pull to the trigger line of the gun; the flint would fly down to strike a spark which would ignite the fine powder in the pan. The intense flame would spurt through the touch-hole and in turn ignite the powder in the breech of the gun. In a fraction of a second two pounds of exploding gunpowder would vomit flame, smoke and noise from the muzzle.
At the same instant someone would signal to the men at the rope and they would suddenly run aft. In a moment the prisoner's body would be jerked many feet up into the air by its neck, and it would all be over.
Hanging ... It was better known to seamen as being "stabbed with a Bridport dagger", a reference to the Devon town's fame for the quality of rope it made. A great leveller. Many men had probably been hanged from the larboard fore yardarm of the Arrogant, but probably none from the starboard yardarm. Seamen were traditionally hanged on the larboard side; the starboard side was reserved for officers. Ramage shuddered. He was glad the trial was unlikely to develop quite as Goddard planned.
"Ramage!"
He looked up and realized that the yawl was alongside the Lion. He had been so lost in thought that he had not heard the orders to the men at the oars. Now the lieutenant acting as provost marshal waited impatiently.
As Ramage moved across the boat to climb up the ship's side he was reminded of a farmyard at home. If one of the hens had a cut or a sore, all the other hens pecked it. Human beings often behaved in the same way. As far as the Marine lieutenant was concerned, Ramage was the hen with the wound. Peck, peck, peck.
He was taken directly to a cabin - some wretched lieutenant had been displaced on his behalf. The Marine officer reminded him pompously that he had been appointed provost marshal and was responsible for guarding him.
"Make a good job of it," Ramage said, irritated by the man's patronizing manner. "It's worth four shillings a day to you."
"I have my duty!"
"Then guard me welclass="underline" I'm a desperate man. Any moment I might jump over the side and elope with a mermaid."
The lieutenant looked at him blankly and left hurriedly. For a moment Ramage felt guilty about teasing him, but did the hen that pecked deserve any sympathy if the pecked hen suddenly pecked back?
An hour later Southwick arrived.
He had brought a uniform, fresh underwear, several pairs of silk stockings, a pair of highly polished boots and some carefully ironed stocks.
"If there's anything else you want, sir, tell me. Your steward reckons that will do for a couple of days."
"The trial will only last a day, and after that..."
"After that you'll get a new ship, sir," Southwick said stoutly.
"I hope so," Ramage said, realizing that the old Master was more in need of comfort than he was himself.
"I received your note, sir, and it's all arranged. The timing is important, I take it?"
"To the minute."
"Jackson's timed the boat from La Perla to the Arrogant by a route with no prying eyes to spoil the effect!"
"Good."
"I was worrying about the ballast, sir. Nothing laid down in the regulations, sir, Admiralty or Customs," Southwick said euphemistically, looking round and frowning, to indicate he was worrying about eavesdroppers and pointing to the pocket of one of the jackets he had brought with him.
"Exactly, so we needn't worry. With the charges I face, forgetting to fill in a form won't matter!"
"I suppose not," the Master said. "Will the 'ballast' help, sir?"
Ramage shrugged his shoulders. This was something he hoped he would be able to decide tonight, lying in his cot. Most of the time so far he had been receiving Admiral Goddard's broadsides; he needed the peace and quiet of his cot to decide where his own salvoes would be aimed. Did anyone get a share of the treasure trove, or did it all go to the Crown automatically? He could not find out without giving the game away.
Southwick said goodnight and Ramage sat at the tiny table to draft some headings for his defence. The trial was being brought on so quickly that he could demand a postponement to have more time. Obviously the charges against him had been prepared many days ago, when there seemed a chance that the Triton would limp in after the hurricane. That accounted for the speed with which the deputy judge advocate had produced the documents. A postponement would not help him, however, since it only increased the chances of Goddard discovering that Yorke and the French party were still alive. If he did, the charges would be changed.
He decided that he needed no notes, wiped the pen, folded the single sheet of paper and put it in his pocket, undressed and flopped down on the cot. He had eaten nothing since lunch, but felt too weary to try to get anything now. A moment later he was asleep.
Chapter Nineteen
Ramage woke with a steward standing beside his cot, a lantern in one hand and a tray in the other.
"Dawn, sir," the steward said cheerfully. "Wind from the north at five knots, and no cloud. Plenty of mosquitoes, though."
He hung the lantern from a hook in a beam overhead.
"I'll put your breakfast here on the table, sir. There's a jug of hot water for shaving and I'll go and get you some more water for washing. My hands were full."
Ramage grunted, rubbed his eyes and wondered why the officers for whom the steward worked had not trained him to bring washing and shaving water first, and breakfast later. He sat up and carefully swung himself out of the cot. The cabin was airless and hot, and his body felt greasy. His teeth seemed coated with wool, his mouth tasted as though he had been sucking a penny and he had a headache.