Yorke pretended to ponder a few moments.
"I think not - do you agree, Ramage?"
"A hanging from the yardarm ... flogging round the fleet... No, they're not offered by the sea, so I think His Grace can rest content," Ramage said, laughing.
"He does, I assure you," the Duke said, "and I'm grateful to you all for the experience. I have such a story that will out-bore every bore in every salon I shall ever visit!"
Jackson called: "Way enough!"
Ramage noticed, as they came alongside the jetty, that a carriage with four greys was standing close by, and men in livery were waiting.
"Ah," the Duke said, "how thoughtful of the Governor. And my ladies will be waiting for us, too."
As one of the Governor's carriages took him from Government House to Admiralty House for his appointment with the Commander-in-Chief, Ramage felt more than half drunk. For the whole of the morning and throughout the meal he had refused to drink anything except a single glass of champagne with which to answer the toasts.
The moment they arrived at Government House, Ramage and Yorke had sensed the Duke's importance to the British Government, but had been startled when the Duke told them that the British government had planned to launch a heavy attack on Guadeloupe and Haiti, the last strongholds of Revolutionary France in the Caribbean. The Duke was to have been the figurehead, the man to whom all the Royalists still left in the islands would have rallied. In effect he would have been the Viceroy of a new French Caribbean empire, comprising Haiti, Guadeloupe and Martinique - an empire captured by the British and handed over to a French government in exile.
The object in sending the Duke out had been to remove the phrase "in exile" by establishing, on French soil in the Caribbean, the seeds of a new French nation.
But, as the future Viceroy told Ramage in his quiet, patient voice, many ships and many troops were needed, and the first news he had received when he met the Governor was that for the time being the attacks on Haiti and Guadeloupe had been postponed: a frigate sailing direct from England to Jamaica had brought a dispatch from Lord Grenville, the Foreign Secretary, to this effect. By chance the frigate had arrived only four days ago.
When Ramage and Yorke tried to express their regrets, the Duke had shrugged his shoulders expressively.
"I sometimes feel," he said, "we are trying to rebuild a new world in the shape of the old; and I have seen too much to ignore the old world's defects. But I am also too old to try and change it. Change is the enemy of age, my young friend, and we old people tend to fight it."
After that, Ramage had been led away to talk for half an hour to the island's Attorney-General, an amiable and breezy man who wanted to discuss the trial. The warnings he had then given, Ramage felt, had been as a direct result of the Governor's knowledge of the Duke's role in the case.
As the horses clattered towards Sir Pilcher's house, Ramage thought about his summons. It was silly to wonder why the Commander-in-Chief was interesting himself in a mere lieutenant; Goddard had seen to it that Ramage was no longer a "mere lieutenant". He now had all the notoriety of a queen's lover or a famous highwayman.
Ramage wiped the perspiration from his brow, straightened his hat, tucked his papers under his arm and grasped the scabbard of his sword: the coachman was reining in the horses in front of a large, four-square white house guarded by Marines.
Ten minutes later Ramage was being ushered into Sir Pilcher's office.
The Admiral was plump, shorter than Ramage and with a tendency to waddle. He had several chins and his cheeks were fat and sagging. He had the glistening pink complexion of a man who enjoyed good living.
"Ah, Mr Ramage?"
He gave Ramage a limp handshake.
"Come, let us sit comfortably."
He led the way to some armchairs set in the middle of the room round a small, low and highly polished table.
He sat in one chair and waved Ramage to one opposite him.
"A cool drink? No? Well now, I trust you are having an enjoyable stay with the Governor."
"Yes, sir, most enjoyable."
"Good, good, a delightful man, and so competent. And the Duke - in good health, I trust?"
"Yes, sir," Ramage said.
"I must congratulate you, Ramage, on bringing the Duke - and his entourage, of course - here safely."
Ramage nodded politely.
"The Duke has - er, explained his..."
"In great confidence, sir."
"Quite so, quite so. He told the Governor he wished you to know."
Sir Pilcher flicked imaginary dust from his lapels, obviously ill at ease.
"Er - I have just read your report to Admiral Goddard on the loss of the Triton..."
"I have the others here, sir."
"Oh, excellent; let me have them."
Ramage took the first one. "This takes up from the time we were wrecked on Snake Island, sir, until we arrived in sight of Jamaica in La Perla."
"Excellent, excellent."
"And this deals with the period we were on Snake Island."
"Ah - finding the treasure, eh?"
"Exactly, sir."
"Splendid business, Ramage, quite splendid. The Admiralty - indeed, the Government - will be delighted. We are having it unloaded now. I went down to look - boxes and boxes! My dear fellow, what a haul!"
"Yes, sir. J wonder who the pirate was?"
"Ah yes, the Attorney-General has been looking up some records. This place has a long history of piracy, as you know - Jamaica I mean. That fellow Morgan was after one particular man back in 1690. Seems they were shipmates at first - Brethren of the Coast - and then they fell out. The Attorney-General seems to think it was most likely his. There's some legend that he and his gang vanished, and after a quarrel with Morgan he went to a lonely island and drank himself to death."
"A sad end," Ramage said, since the Admiral seemed to expect some comment.
"Ha, yes! All that gold and nothing to spend it on, what? Well, 'easy come, easy go' I suppose."
Ramage waited. The point of all this was bound to emerge soon.
Sir Pilcher stuck his finger inside his stock and gave it a tug, as if it was too tight.
"Sure you won't have a drink, Ramage?"
"Thank you, sir, no."
"I will, then: ring for a steward, there's a good fellow."
Ramage walked over to the long, richly embroidered bellpull, gave it a tug, and heard a distant, faint ringing. A few moments later a coloured steward glided in.
"Rum and lemon, Albert. The 'tenant's not drinking."
As soon as the steward left the room, Sir Pilcher said: "This court-martial business, Ramage ..."
Ramage glanced up, his eyebrows raised, and waited.
"Deuced difficult, y'know."
"In what way, sir?"
"Doubtful if it was in legal form. Napier, the president, was in a damnably difficult position. The deputy judge advocate wasn't much use to him."
Ramage felt his skin go cold with fright. Had they celebrated too soon? He had forgotten that Sir.Pilcher could declare his trial void and order a new one on some technicality. At a new trial, the cowardice charges could be forgotten and Sir Pilcher and Goddard, with the help of the best legal brains available, could draw up new charges ... His talk with the Attorney-General took on a new meaning, and he tried to remember the past cases the man had cited so carefully. At the time they had seemed of little significance or relevance.
"In what way was it illegal, sir?"
"Well, not exactly illegal. Fact is, the charges were drawn up without the prosecution knowing all the facts - or about all the witnesses."
"But that's the prosecution's responsibility, sir," Ramage protested. "The witnesses arrived in time and the facts eventually emerged!"
"Oh, quite, quite; no one's disputing that. It's a question of how the evidence was introduced, an' all that sort of thing. You know what sticklers these lawyers are!"