"The remains of Port Royal," he said, pointing to the western end of the Palisadoes. "You see the hill on the side? The big battery up there is called the Twelve Apostles. Now - it's just coming clear of the point - you can see Fort Charles: the low, red brick walls are all that's left. And beyond - Gallows Point!"
Maxine shuddered.
"You'll see the bodies still hanging from the gallows - mutineers from the Hermione frigate!"
"Mon Dieu! How long have they been there?"
"A year or two. They're wrapped in chains, a warning to other seamen..."
Southwick was on the foredeck making sure everything was ready for anchoring, and Yorke excused himself and walked over to Ramage.
"Everyone with a telescope is watching us by now," he said quietly.
Ramage nodded. "And they won't make head or tail of it!"
"Just another prize sent in by a frigate?"
"Yes - the only interest will be in guessing how much she'll fetch."
By now the pilot was standing by the main chains, apparently in a huff, so no one could hear them talk.
"M'sieur St Brieuc was right," Yorke said quietly. "You are going to take his advice, aren't you?"
"I suppose so," Ramage said reluctantly. "I haven't really made up my mind."
"You're leaving it rather late!"
"I know," Ramage said glumly. "I hate getting them involved in this sort of nonsense."
"Involved? See here, Ramage!" Ramage was startled by the harsh note in Yorke's voice, "They owe their lives to you." He held up a hand to silence Ramage's protest. "That's a fact. Certainly once, with the Peacock attack, and probably twice, getting us all ashore at Snake Island and then to Jamaica!"
Ramage shrugged his shoulders, but Yorke persisted.
"Anyway, he's going to involve himself, whether you agree or not. If you were simply a lieutenant with no problems he'd be grateful and want to show it. He's doing no more because it's you."
"All right!" Ramage said wearily, "I'll do as he says. I appreciate his suggestion."
"Is your report all ready?"
"Dozens of reports," Ramage said sourly. "I seem to have been scribbling ever since we passed Puerto Rico. There's a lot to be said for losing your ship and escaping in an open boat - you don't have pen and paper, then."
Yorke laughed. "The Navy floats in ink, and ships are built of paper."
"And their guns fire broadsides of pens," Ramage added.
"So M'sieur St Brieuc will keep out of sight until tomorrow," Yorke said as a statement of fact.
"I suppose that's all right," Ramage said doubtfully. "This damned protocol. Who does he report to, anyway?"
"The Lieutenant Governor. His letters are addressed to him."
Ramage gave a sigh of relief. "That's a help. I should have guessed that."
"What do you do now?" Yorke asked.
"As soon as we anchor and clear Customs here at Port Royal - the manifest won't mention the bullion - we'll shift into Kingston and I'll go on shore and report to the Commander-in-Chief if Goddard isn't there."
The two men stood looking round them as La Perla completed the last few hundred yards into the anchorage, and then Ramage saw Jackson running aft along the deck towards him.
"The Lion's here, sir!"
Ramage looked in the direction the American was pointing.
She was little more than a hulk in Kingston harbour, and partly hidden by merchantmen. There was a lighter each side of her, and only her mainmast was standing.
Ramage put his telescope to his eye and the circular magnified picture revealed the story. "Foremast and mizen gone by the board," Ramage said loudly, knowing that every man on board was curious. "Mainmast fished in two places. Bulwarks stove in on both sides. Jibboom gone, and the bowsprit fished. Several port lids torn off."
Yorke grunted. "We weren't the only ones in trouble, then!"
Then Ramage saw the stream of water frothing across the deck and over the side.
"And leaking badly; they're pumping."
"Flag, sir?" Jackson asked.
"No - the Admiral must be on shore."
"No sign of the others, sir," Jackson said quietly.
Ramage swung the telescope round the anchorage to confirm that there was no sign of the three frigates and the Lark lugger that had formed the escort.
Ramage shut the telescope. He'd never recognize the merchantmen and he would know soon enough how many had survived when he went on shore.
At least he didn't have to alter the address on his reports. He had made them to Rear-Admiral Goddard, but he'd hoped ... Anyway, instead of reporting to the Commander-in-Chief, he had to report to the Rear-Admiral, the new "second-in-command of His Majesty's ships and vessels ... at and about Jamaica".
After the customs officers cleared La Perla at Port Royal, Ramage took the schooner round Gallows Point, at the end of the Palisadoes, and beat up through the ships anchored in Kingston Harbour.
"One thing about coming in with a ship like this," Southwick commented. "You can choose where to anchor, instead of being ordered to a particular berth!"
Ramage nodded. He was anxious to anchor abreast of the town of Kingston, since La Perla's boat was too small to make a two-mile row anything less than a test of endurance.
Yorke examined the Lion carefully through a telescope as the schooner tacked across her stern.
"She was lucky to get in," he commented. "I'll bet there are ten men at the pumps night and day."
As soon as La Perla luffed up and anchored, she was surrounded by bumboats, each improbably named and gaudily painted with sails made of sacking and pieces of canvas crudely sewn to shape. Each was manned by an energetic and flamboyant Negro shouting at the top of his voice, anxious to carry the captain on shore or bring out supplies. While the schooner's sails were being furled, the bumboatmen were yelling to Southwick - apparently assuming that because of his bulk he was the purser - and giving him a string of prices for everything a ship and her crew could possibly need, from fresh fruit to women.
When they saw La Perla's boat being hoisted out they groaned with pretended dismay and then began describing the superior speed, safety and comfort of their respective craft.
Ramage went below to the tiny cuddy he shared with Yorke and changed into one of his best uniforms. By the time he had dressed he was soaked with perspiration - there was barely room to crouch in the cuddy, let alone stand up. Giving his stock a last twitch to straighten it, he picked up his sword, his best hat and the heavily-stitched canvas pouch containing his reports.
Before going on deck he went to the St Brieucs' cabin. None of them had come to watch the ship coming into Kingston and he was disappointed. He knocked, called out his name, and heard St Cast telling him to enter. Maxine had been weeping. Her eyes were red and as Ramage looked at her, too startled to look tactfully away, she gave a dry sob.
St Brieuc said quickly: "Don't worry, my lord. My daughter is both sad and happy and so is my wife." Ramage saw that she too had been crying.
St Brieuc went on quickly to avoid an embarrassing silence, "We are sad at the prospect of leaving you, even though it will probably not be for a day or two."
Ramage was too dumbfounded to do anything more than stand there, holding his sword and hat.
"And a little worried too until you return to tell us how the Admiral receives you. Sir Pilcher, I mean."
"Goddard," Ramage said without thinking.
"He is here?"
Ramage pulled himself together, unable to take his eyes off Maxine.
"The Lion is. She's badly damaged, but safe."
"And the others?" Maxine asked.