An officer brought before a court martial surrendered his sword - in effect his badge of office - to the provost marshal, who handed it to the court. Throughout the trial his sword had been lying on the green baize of the table in front of the captains. Round it was piled, almost symbolically, the paraphernalia needed for the administration of justice - the law books required for reference, ships' logs and muster books which had become numbered exhibits, and their entries, often made in a hurry, or later when memory could be at fault - capable of having an enormous significance in the legal re-creation of some long-past event.
Then, with all examination of witnesses over, the minutes of evidence read aloud for the last time, the seven captains having deliberated, the court had at last been ready to announce its verdict.
Ramage - "the prisoner" - had been summoned and the door into the great cabin was flung open in front of him. As he walked in, head erect, shoulders back, heart racing, he had tried to glimpse the sword on the table. But Syme and the three nearest captains obscured it. Knowing that everyone in the cabin was watching him, he went straight to his chair and stood in front of it, turning slightly to bow to the members of the court.
As he did so, he glimpsed the sword in its scabbard. It was lying on the table with its hilt towards him, indicating that the court's verdict was not guilty. Quite involuntarily, he had glanced at Goddard. The Admiral, too, was staring at the sword. By chance, as it was lying in its scabbard on the table, the blade was pointing towards the Admiral.
Napier had spoken the court's verdict and Ramage had accepted his sword from him. He had muttered his thanks to the court and stumbled from the cabin into the sunlight. He had gone to the bulwarks and stared over the side at the wavelets, and a swarm of small, minnow-like fish had leapt out of the water, frantically trying to escape from some hidden predator. Beyond, anchored at random, were the Lion and eleven merchantmen; the only survivors of the hurricane.
He had turned, and Jackson had been standing there alone, with the others waiting a few feet away.
"Your boat is ready, sir," the American had said, and spontaneously Ramage had shaken him by the hand and only realized he was trembling violently when he found he could put no pressure in his grip.
One by one, Stafford, Appleby, Southwick, Yorke and the Duke had shaken him by the hand, and the Duke had said: "My wife and my daughter also thank you for all you've done, and all you've suffered for us."
As Ramage sat down on the thwart beside the Duke, Jackson gave the order to shove off. Stafford was rowing stroke, with Rossi behind him, then Maxton and another coloured man, who was a fraction of a second slower than the others. It was Roberto, the former Spanish slave and now rated a landsman in the Royal Navy.
Jackson was not steering towards La Perla and Ramage was just going to say something when he remembered that they would have to put the Duke and Yorke on shore.
Southwick leaned across and passed him a letter.
"Delivered this morning, sir."
It was addressed simply to "Lieutenant Ramage". Though the court had found him innocent and there was no risk of charges over the loss of the Triton - only a routine court of inquiry - he still had no ship. Sir Pilcher Skinner, having seen what Ramage had just done to his second-in-command, would not want to appoint him to command even a hired bumboat. That meant he'd have to return to England as a passenger, report his arrival to the Admiralty, and wait.
He'd go home to Cornwall, and his father and mother would be overjoyed to see him. For a few weeks he'd enjoy the atmosphere of Blazey Hall and he'd walk and ride over the Cornish moors. Gianna would probably be there too ... And then he'd begin to feel unsettled, listless, unable to concentrate on what he was doing, unable to get pleasure from the things he had previously enjoyed. He'd long to get back to sea, but the Admiralty would never employ someone who had brought about the ruin of an admiral, however badly that admiral had behaved ...
Rear-Admiral Goddard was now professionally ruined, although he was a wealthy man and could return to London society and perhaps be lionized. Certainly with his connections at court almost every door would be open to him. But Goddard, too, was a sailor, albeit - if that Marine corporal's comments and Croucher's behaviour at the trial had been anything to go by - a poor one in a hurricane, but he would never receive another appointment, and Ramage found that despite his recent hatred for the man he was beginning to feel sorry for him.
Southwick was watching him anxiously while he daydreamed. Perhaps the letter was important. He ripped it open, not noticing the seal until the wax was too shattered to recognize, and began reading.
It was from Sir Pilcher's secretary: Lieutenant Ramage was to call on the Commander-in-Chief at four o'clock that afternoon. He took out his watch. It was now just half past nine.
He held the letter out to Southwick but the Master shook his head.
"I took the liberty of questioning the lieutenant who delivered it," he said. "The lieutenant appointed to command La Perla," he added quietly.
Sir Pilcher had wasted no time.
"Your gear has been taken on shore, sir."
"The ship's company?" Ramage asked.
"The original Tritons are being temporarily transferred to the Arrogant, sir. The men from the Topaz are still on board. Mr Yorke's seeing about them."
"Oh, very well," Ramage said numbly. It had to come, but he was being parted from Southwick and the Tritons. Somehow each and every man had shared so much and now - as always in the naval service after a ship was lost - her company was going to be scattered like spindrift.
The Duke noticed his depression.
"A celebration lunch," he said. "We have taken the liberty of arranging one in your honour."
"Cheer up, Ramage," Yorke said. "Anyone would think the verdict went against you!"
"Where has your Grace chosen for the celebration?" Ramage asked politely, longing to know if Maxine would be there.
"It was not my choice," the Duke said. "In fact we are all guests: Mr Yorke, Mr Southwick, my family, the Count - who feels quite put out at not being called to give evidence: he has a sharp tongue and wished to unsheath it on your behalf - Mr Bowen and young Mr Appleby."
"Indeed?" Ramage said more cheerfully. "And to whom are we indebted for this invitation?"
"The Lieutenant Governor. We are on our way now to Government House."
"I'll be damned!" Ramage exclaimed. "Government House?"
"I have - er, how do you sailors say it: I've 'slung my hammock' there. The Governor has shown an interest in our recent - ah, excursion - and wishes to hear the details from you. After I had presented my credentials he was kind enough to express his pleasure that we were safe, and insisted we should be his guests. Indeed, I fear I kept him from his bed telling him of our adventures!"
"Your credentials?" Ramage asked, then realizing that he had been thinking aloud, waved his apology.
"I shall tell you later," the Duke said. "It will serve to explain the Admiral's discomfort when we left his ship for the Topaz. Alas, it was a move which brought about all your troubles."
"Your Grace!" Yorke exclaimed. "You are quite wrong. The privateer affair was only an evening's excitement; the hurricane would still have dismasted us even if you had been on board the Lion. My only regret is that the ladies have suffered so much."
"Suffered?" The Duke did not hide his surprise. "I assure you none of us would have missed a moment of it all. When you get to my age, you envy the exciting lives the young men lead. Now we've experienced it and, thank the good God, we live to tell a tale of almost everything the sea has to offer - a battle, a hurricane, shipwreck on a reef, hunting for treasure, a dangerous voyage in a tiny ship, and a naval court martial. Pray tell me, have I missed any of the other excitements the sea has to offer?"