"Indeed," Ramage said gravely. "Very poor."
"Yes, a sad business. What did you say your name was?" he asked the Marine suddenly.
"Alfred Ransom."
The lieutenant turned to Ramage in mock despair. "Alfred - you see what I mean? And where the devil did you get that surname? Was your grandfather a kidnapper? Or just a plain moneylender whose rates of interest made his unfortunate clients think of ransom?"
Before the Marine had time to answer the lieutenant waved him away. "Go and walk round the belfry - here come some of Mr Ramage's judges. Captain Ormsby, closely followed by Captain Robinson of the Valiant, are about to grace us with their presence."
Ramage and Ransom walked the Arrogant's deck for more than half an hour as the captains arrived from their ships. Rossi was acting as coxswain of La Perla's little boat and brought over Southwick, Appleby, Jackson and Stafford. As the Italian called out orders for the boat to leave the Arrogant's side he caught sight of Ramage and, still looking ahead, said loudly in a broad Neapolitan accent, "Sta tranquille, comandante!"
Ramage smiled down at him, and then looked over at Jackson and Stafford. It was unlikely that they had ever been so smartly turned out before; Ramage had the feeling that everyone on board La Perla must have sorted through his wardrobe to find the best shirts and trousers for the two men.
The court martial was due to open in fifteen minutes, and Ramage saw the Lion's launch coming from the shore. The fat figure in the stern sheets was unmistakable.
The lieutenant at the gangway turned to Ramage and, waving at the launch with his list, said: "The last guest invited to your reception."
Ramage nodded. "Thanks for your help. You have an invitation?"
"No, but I may drop in."
"Do, it passes away an idle hour or so."
With Rear-Admiral Goddard waddling aft and entering the great cabin, the court was within moments of assembling.
"Come on, Ramage, they've passed the word for us."
The seven captains ordered to the trial had gone into the great cabin and read out the dates of their commissions. Captain Napier, commanding the Arrogant and appointed president of the court, had seated them round the table in order of seniority. Syme, the fussy little deputy judge advocate, would have all his papers sorted out, quills sharpened, inkwell full, spectacles polished and Bible and Crucifix ready for administering the oath. Rear-Admiral Goddard was in there, with his faithful Hobson, ready to act as prosecutor. Croucher was there too, among the witnesses.
It was supposed to be a big day for Goddard. As far as he was concerned it would be the end of a vendetta, the end of a very long-drawn-out act of revenge against Admiral the Earl of Blazey. The night before, Ramage had wondered how he would feel walking these last few feet into the cabin. What he felt was anger. Anger that had come in the past few moments when he reflected that Goddard was not attacking him but his father. By attacking the Earl's son he was dealing the old man a blow against which he had no defence. Goddard was an assassin moving out silently in a dark Neapolitan street and striking with a stiletto ... A cowardly blow, an unnecessary blow and perhaps a lethal blow. Goddard hoped that getting the son hanged for cowardice would shame the father into an early grave - the mother, too. Death before dishonour, or if not before, then dam' soon after. Every man's weakest point, his Achilles' heel, was his family. That was something Goddard had known all along.
Men like the Marine lieutenant, trotting along behind now and puffed up with the importance of being "provost marshal upon the occasion", were the jackals, content with snapping at the scraps. The Goddards of this world were the hyenas; bigger and more vicious, and although not brave, so greedy that occasionally they would leap on a badly wounded animal and drag it to the ground.
The sentry at the door of the great cabin snapped to attention and as Ramage removed his hat before going through the door Ransom pushed him aside, chest stuck out, shoulders back, Ramage's sword tucked under his left arm like a telescope, and marched into the cabin. Exasperated, Ramage stopped outside the door and watched Ransom striding in, straight to the two empty chairs, one for the prisoner and one behind it for the provost marshal.
Eight captains, counting Croucher, an admiral, the deputy judge advocate, several lieutenants, Southwick, Appleby, Jackson, Stafford and various other witnesses, watched as Ransom marched. He halted, stamping his feet, and turned to direct his prisoner to the chair.
The Captain seated at the head of the table raised his eyebrows.
"Pray, what are you supposed to be doing, lieutenant?"
Ransom looked round wildly. "My prisoner!"
"You are acting as the provost marshal?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Well, your prisoner appears to have eluded you."
"I - well, sir, he was ... I have his sword!"
"We need the prisoner, lieutenant," the Captain said. "You are from the Lion, I assume?"
"Yes, sir," Ransom stammered.
"I thought so," Napier murmured. "Run along and fetch your prisoner."
Ramage, standing just outside the door, was puzzled by Napier's reference to the Lion - it seemed a calculated snub to Croucher ... He stepped into the cabin before Ransom was halfway to the door, gave a slight bow, and walked deliberately to the empty chair as if Ransom did not exist.
Syme, the deputy judge advocate, had stood up and half turned to watch him. Goddard was looking away, pretending complete indifference.
"Sit down," Captain Napier said, "I want to sort out some papers."
The President was giving Ramage a minute or two to get his bearings. A long table covered with a green baize cloth ran almost the width of the cabin, and eight men sat round it. At the head was Napier, with Syme opposite him at the foot. Three captains sat down one side and three the other, and Ramage knew they were sitting in order of seniority left and right of Napier, with the juniors at the bottom, next to Syme. Ramage's chair was four feet from the table on Syme's left. An empty chair, for witnesses, was four feet from Syme's right hand. Clear of the table and over on Captain Napier's left sat Rear-Admiral Goddard, as prosecutor, with Hobson in another chair just behind him.
Standing in a group behind Admiral Goddard were the witnesses: Croucher, Southwick, several lieutenants - presumably the Lion's officers - and, not looking at all ill-at-ease, Jackson and Stafford.
Captain Napier took out his watch, put it down on the table in front of him, rapped with his knuckles and said in a clipped, incisive voice: "Gentlemen, it is half past eight o'clock: the court is in session. Admiral" - he turned to Goddard - "can you see that all the witnesses for the prosecution are here?"
Goddard nodded indifferently.
"Mr Ramage - are your witnesses all here?"
"All the witnesses I was able to assemble in the time available, sir."
"Very welclass="underline" I shall ask that question again when the court is sworn and it can be noted in the minutes."
Ramage looked at him and thought that Captain Napier had a real interest in administering justice. Admiral Goddard was staring at Napier with the look a man might give his wife at a reception if she suddenly announced that she had discovered certain of his defects. Ramage had a feeling that Captain Napier's name must be near the top of the captains' list, so near that he could soon expect his flag. Too senior and self-confident to be unduly impressed by Goddard.
Napier rapped the table again. "Carry on, Mr Syme."
The deputy judge advocate stood up, adjusted his spectacles, picked up a single sheet of paper and, after looking round at all the captains, began reading Sir Pilcher Skinner's order for the court martial. Then he read: "By Vice-Admiral Sir Pilcher Skinner ... Commander-in-Chief of His Majesty's ships ... at Jamaica ... a court martial to try Lieutenant Nicholas Ramage, of his Majesty's late ship the Triton, on various charges laid by Rear-Admiral Goddard ... I do ... hereby authorize you to execute the office of judge advocate upon the above occasion. For which this shall be your warrant."