Anyway, there's nothing like sitting on the deck of a smack in the sunshine in the middle of an enemy harbour for getting a fresh perspective. And not only a perspective - the hot sun was doing nothing to disperse the sickly smell of garbage, boiled cabbage and urine that seemed to lie over the quays in an invisible layer many feet thick.
So a smuggler's allegiance was to money rather than a flag, and he was lucky because Louis also had a deep and apparently genuine contempt for the Corsican who, to many Frenchmen, typified France even more than the Tricolour; who so believed in Liberté, égalité and fraternité that apparently he wanted to conquer and rule the whole world.
The first move was to see if Louis was willing to help; after that the price could be settled. So much easier to deal with men whose consciences were uncluttered with complicated loyalties . . . 'Has Slushy told you why I've come to France?' Ramage spoke in French, since there was no need to disguise the fact he spoke it.
'No - all I know is what Thomas Smith said when he came over with the papers in the middle of the Channeclass="underline" that there was no contraband this voyage, only four passengers.'
'Do you often carry passengers?'
Louis shook his head. 'Not to France. Occasionally one of the leaders - one of the chief smugglers, you understand - visits France to check the accounts and pay or collect money. Twice a year, perhaps. To England? Very occasionally, and usually they are British prisoners of war who have escaped from Verdun or Bitche or one of the other fortresses. A very dangerous traffic for us: it's asking a lot to risk having the authorities here in Boulogne forbid all smuggling to England just for the sake of helping an escaped prisoner.'
'But they pay you well, surely?'
'They offer to, but if we carry them, then they pay only for a small rowing-boat: we take them to within a mile or two of Dover and let them row the rest of the way in the boat. They tell the authorities in Dover they stole or bought the boat and rowed all the way. They say nothing of the Marie or anyone they met. That is the price of our help: silence!'
'It's a price anyone can afford!'
'I have too much imagination,' Louis confessed unexpectedly. 'I just think of myself escaping from a prison fortress, being hunted across two hundred miles of countryside, and then reaching the coast to find I can see my homeland but cannot get across. The fisherman or boatman that drives a hard bargain in such circumstances ought to have a taste of prison...'
"What else did Thomas Smith tell you?' Ramage asked casually.
'Just that a gentleman with three attendants was being taken to Boulogne.'
'Attendants?'
Louis laughed, explaining, "Thomas Smith is proud of his French and practises it on me. I think he liked the sound of "jonty-yomm"' - he made an exaggerated gesture as he imitated the Marsh man's pronunciation, 'whereas "lieutenant" sounds more or less the same (the way Smith pronounces it) in either language. You are a lieutenant, I think?' When Ramage nodded he added: 'I thought so, and these three men served with you?' Without waiting for Ramage's answer he said: 'One can tell there is a rapport between men who have faced death together, no matter what their rank. Well, the fact that the Chief arranged your passage is enough for me to say, if I can be of service to you ...’
‘Thank you, but was that the British chief or the French?'
Louis chuckled, thought for a moment and then said: "There's only one chief, and although I have never seen him, I am sure he regards himself as a citizen of both countries.'
'A man of two worlds, eh?’
Louis repeated the phrase, as though savouring it. 'All of us concerned with contraband have to be. However, contraband is the least of your worries. When you go on shore tonight, have you lodgings arranged?'
'Not yet. Will they be difficult to find?'
'I will help you. The main difficulty is moving about after dark.'
'Is there a curfew?'
'Only for the soldiers, but there are patrols everywhere. Everyone challenged has to show a passport, unless he can prove he lives in Boulogne. A man without a passport or a home in Boulogne goes straight to jail...'
Which shows, Ramage thought to himself, the dangers of not planning an operation carefully. But there had been no time to do more than get to France; there was no way of finding out what conditions were like. One day a government department might make itself responsible for collecting all that kind of information, so that it was available to the Admiralty and War Office, and even the Secretary of State's office. But since captains were having difficulty in getting the Admiralty to agree to print charts because Their Lordships expected captains and masters to have their own (though not specifying where they were to come from), it was unlikely that the Government would ever show any interest in what went on in an enemy country.
'Such documents provide no problem,' the Frenchman said. 'I'll get them before you leave. I need to know what trades you follow though, and you must decide on your names - or what names you want to use, rather. One of the men is not English, I think.'
'One is Italian, one British, and one American. The Italian speaks English and some Spanish. The American speaks a little Spanish - perhaps enough to fool a gendarme. I speak some Spanish, too. The American also speaks some Italian, and so do I.'
'Your Spanish and Italian - is it as good as your French?'
'Better - I've spoken both fairly recently. I haven't used my French since I learned it, unfortunately.'
'You have nothing to worry about. The accent of Paris - it shows. Your teachers made you work hard! But the Englishman - he speaks only English?'
Ramage nodded. 'His own particular brand of it!'
'Then he must be the dumb one, while the two of you must be Italian or Spanish. Italian would be better - the Spanish are not popular in France at the moment, as you probably know.'
'Yes, that gives us one native Italian - a Genovese – and Ican pass for a Tuscan. If the American just grunts and Englishman holds his tongue . . . But trades - what do you suggest?'
'It depends on your task. I'm not prying,' Louis added hurriedly, 'but one trade might be more suitable than another for your -' he broke off, embarrassed and obviously unable to find the right words.
'My masters are worried that Bonaparte's Army of England might suddenly arrive one morning . . .'
'It worries my masters too,' Louis grunted nodding as though Ramage had confirmed his guess. 'That would put every smuggler out of business along the whole French coast. The interests of our respective masters therefore coincide, which makes our task easier.'
Suddenly Ramage remembered the moment when Simpson had changed his mind and agreed to help when, in the comfort of his study, he had finally guessed the substance ol Ramage's orders and realized that, with Bonaparte's threat of invasion, the smugglers' and the Admiralty's interests were perhaps for the first time in history the same.
'Carpenters!' Louis said suddenly. 'Carpenters sent to Boulogne from Italy to help build the ships. You have just arrived. In Italy the French officers - blame the Army - promised you high wages if you went to work on the barges in Boulogne. With your tools —yes, that would help because they are short of tools here -' he saw Ramage's face fall and said reassuringly, 'don't worry, you are poor men and cannot be expected to have a lot of tools, not more than I can provide.'
'All we need is some skill with wood; it looks as if you can provide everything else!'
Louis shrugged his shoulders. 'You and your men know enough about the way ships are built to bluff questioners - and that is all it would be, questions. I doubt if a gendarme would give you a plank of wood to make you demonstrate! And if you want to work in the shipyards for a day or two - well, there is so much chaos there that if each of you carries a piece of timber and some tools and you look busy, you could walk for many hours without anyone asking questions - long enough for you to find out whatever you need to know.'