Gravely Ramage returned the salute. "There's no gangway," he said with mock haughtiness. "However, our cause is just: I will get my feet wet."
He bowed deeply to Mme St Brieuc and Maxine. "Ladies, permit me to confer on you the freedom of the island!"
With that the mock ceremony was over; as seamen helped the women on shore, Ramage jumped down from the raft to question Appleby.
"We've seen nothing, sir. I did a reconnaissance myself last night with the corporal. I also sent men along the beach each way but there was no sign of boats or huts. So we just hauled the raft into shallow water and secured it."
"Very well," Ramage said. "From now on the Marines have the responsibility of guarding the passengers."
With that he signalled to Jackson. "Get three men and cut down some of these big palm fronds and make some sort of shelter for the ladies. The sun will be unbearably hot soon. Pick a spot that the breeze can get at."
Just at that moment one of the seamen gave a howl and hopped out of the water on one leg, cursing and swearing at the top of his voice.
A shocked Southwick was beside the man almost immediately, bellowing at him to be silent, and blushing at the thought that the women had heard the words which were simple, strong and unambiguous.
"What's the trouble?" Ramage demanded.
"Says his foot hurts, sir."
"Not used to walking on land?"
"Says he trod on a lot of sharp nails - by jingo, sir, he's got black spots all over the sole of his foot!"
"Sea urchin spines!" Ramage snapped. "Doesn't he have the sense to look out for them?"
But the man had never seen them before, and when Ramage saw how many there were along the beach just under the water, he shouted to all the men to stop and listen.
"Look down into the water," he shouted. "Can you see those small brownish-black discs on the sand - some of them three or four inches across? They're sea urchins. A small ball with hundreds of short spines sticking out all over like a porcupine. If you tread on one the spines stick into your foot and break off.
"They hurt like the devil for half an hour. After that it's not too bad. After a day or two you can forget 'em. But you can't get 'em out once they're in; if you probe around you break them up and they'll probably go poisoned. So leave them - they'll vanish eventually. It's a different story for Mediterranean urchins, but this is the Caribbean. And while we're at it, this is Snake Island but there are no snakes: the name comes from its shape. All you have to worry about are sea urchins in the water, and mosquitoes on land. And Mr Southwick and me. Right, carry on and be careful."
Southwick said quietly: "There is a way of easing the pain, sir! I wonder if you -"
"Yes, I know," Ramage said impatiently and added, lowering his voice, "The relief one gets from doing it is far less than the agony I'd experience in shouting at the top of my voice, in front of the ladies, that if you piss on where the spines are stuck in it'll take the worst of the sting out."
"Quite, sir," Southwick said, his face red. "I'd better keep an eye on the men with the provisions. The other raft will be here in a few minutes."
He pointed seaward to where the Bosun was conning the smaller raft carrying the muskets, carpenter's tools and powder in barrels. Seamen were hunched along two opposite sides wielding paddles.
Ramage nodded. "We'll see if the Bosun thinks Appleby can get back to the ship with the other raft before the wind springs up. We might as well ferry over as much food as we can. This island doesn't look as though it has much to offer. And we had better bring some water."
"Aye, it looks parched, and no streams on the chart. Not the place for them," Southwick said. "Probably a fresh-water well for the village, but -"
"If there's a garrison, they aren't going to offer to fill our casks..."
The Bosun was able to manoeuvre his raft in to the beach close to the big raft, and Ramage was thankful that there seemed to be a regular current crossing the outer reef on which the two wrecks were perched and which came to within fifty yards of this beach, so all that was needed was some vigorous rowing at the last moment.
Within fifteen minutes Appleby and the Bosun were heading back for the Triton, and with them was the mate of the Topaz: Yorke had given him instructions to collect some particular provisions.
Finally, with the last raft unloaded and the men carefully stacking muskets, shot and powder well back from the beach, Ramage had time to sit down on a rock and take stock.
Even though it was not yet eight o'clock, it was obvious that everyone's attitude towards tropical heat was about to change radically. The land was hot and humid; it was the kind of heat which had been there for centuries, as if during every moment of daylight the rock and earth soaked up and stored the sun's scorching heat like a vast oven. At sea there was no heated land; they had the full advantage of the cooling Trade winds.
For Ramage it was a welcome change after months at sea; there were compensations, like the mixed-herbs smell of the land, rich and intimate, and from where he sat he could see several frangipani bushes covered in white flowers. The rich perfume contained memories of all the erotic sensations he would ever know, but he did not go over to smell it. The memories were strong enough without any reminders.
The birds sang in clear tones, never shrill, always joyful and always a delight. At sea one forgot the sheer pleasure of watching the birds - he stared at a little dark green velvet hummingbird by a shrub, its wings working so fast they were almost invisible, and the bird motionless as it hovered. Then a sudden jink as it moved to investigate another part of the bush. Above it there was a golden-yellow flash as a troupial found all the human beings too alarming and fled along the beach.
He was torn between getting more stores on shore from the ship and setting up a base which he could probably defend, and going off for a reconnaissance of the island. He couldn't be in two places at once, but he did not want to trust anyone else with either job.
Jackson! He suddenly remembered a remark his cox'n had made a year or two ago in Italy when they were struggling over the Tuscan countryside, trying to avoid Bonaparte's cavalry who were busy invading.
"I was with Colonel Pickens at Cowpens, sir," the American had said, thinking that sufficient explanation as to why he knew a lot about soldiering. Well, the devil knew who Colonel Pickens was and what he was doing at Cowpens, but Jackson had obviously been a useful rebel during the American War. Ramage called him over.
"Jackson, there's one village - maybe a small town - on this island, San Ildefonso. It's two or three miles from here, over these hills."
Ramage gestured to the north-west and bent down, drawing in the sand with his finger.
"There's an almost landlocked bay - entrance just beyond that headland - which forms the middle of the island. The village is on the east side, like so." He drew a small circle. "I want to know more about the village: if there's a garrison; if there's a quay, and any ships in; if there's a fresh-water well - and so on. How long -"
"Three hours, sir, if I can have a couple of hands," he said even before Ramage had time to frame the question. "Three hands, sir."
"As many as you want."
"I'd like Stafford, Rossi and Maxton," he said promptly, "and, sir, can I suggest something?"
When Ramage nodded, he said: "The Marines, sir, an' those red coats ... Can't they just wear shirts and trousers? You can see the red two miles off, and in this heat..."
"You're speaking from experience about the red?"
Jackson grinned sheepishly. "Yes, sir. Many's the time I've sighted a musket on a Redcoat..."
Such is the absurdity of war, Ramage thought: now he's fighting for us and warning me about the red cloth.
"Very well, I'll deal with that. Take what weapons you want and be back as soon as -"