'But all round you in the sea was the blood of the dead and wounded . . .'
Ramage wanted to end the conversation: this kind of reasoning brought back memories which for years he had struggled to drive away: of friends, of men he liked, and even men he disliked, who had died round him in battle, lingeringly or instantly, bloodily or unmarked, silently or screaming in agony.
'Madam,' he said, making little effort to keep a chill out of his voice, 'we laugh to avoid weeping. Today some of our men were killed. We knew them and we grieve, but inwardly. We don't wail and tear our hair. Tomorrow fifty might be killed, and a hundred the day after. Are we to weep for every one of them? Are we to weep because fifty of us might be killed on the third day? I might be dead tomorrow, Kenton and Baker the day after, and then Aitken. If we thought too much about it we would never sleep, we'd never be able to look at each other without bursting into tears. But we have a war to fight so each of us hopes he is immortal, laughs when he can and mourns in his own way when he must.'
Maria was angry now, the hint of tears gone and the skin of her face tautening to give her a beauty which was absent when her features were in repose. 'It is all very well for you to speak thus,' she snapped, 'but you are the captain! These young men risk their lives while you just give them their orders, and stay safely in your own ship.'
Ramage smiled in agreement and gave a slight bow which, he hoped, would end the conversation, but Aitken's Scots voice said quietly: 'I haven't served with His Lordship long, ma'am, but he's been wounded twice to my knowledge - look at the scars over his right eye - and has done things that make men like me tremble even to think about And,' he added, giving the words the broadness that only the Scottish accent allowed, 'today he was nearer death than any of us who lived.' Maria stared at Aitken, obviously disbelieving him. 'You defend your captain - as indeed you should.'
'Aye, madam, because he won't be bothered to defend himself against what - if you'll forgive my presumption - is a very ill - informed attack. I'm a simple naval officer not used to Governors' palaces, so I'm wrong in speaking out like this, but I canna stand here and listen to you talking about the captain staying behind and giving orders.'
'But he does!' Maria snapped. 'Mr Wagstaffe has just told us how he boarded the French schooner over the stem.'
Rennick grunted in protest and Wagstaffe had none of Aitken's shyness. 'Madam,' he said sharply, 'the first person to board that schooner was the captain. He climbed through a gun port at the bow. You probably don't know what a gun port is but you know the fortresses here. It was as if he climbed the wall and went through one of the embrasures so that he was standing right in front of the muzzle of a gun which was just about to fire.'
'It didn't though,' she said bitterly. 'He's alive but the other men are dead.'
The gun did not fire because Mr Ramage had time to kill the gunner the moment before it fired.' 'So four men died today, not three!' she exclaimed. Before anyone had time to react, Kenton, his cheeks flaming with anger, took a step towards her and said angrily: 'Yes, and nearly five - Mr Ramage. Would that have satisfied you, ma'am? The French' may be your allies but they're our enemies. They killed three of our men today, not Mr Ramage.' He stopped and Ramage was just about to order his officers to change the subject when Wagstaffe said: 'Madam - that schooner has a Spanish name, the Nuestra Senora de Antigua. You are sorry that Mr Ramage shot one of her seamen, but I can tell you that every man on board the Calypso would volunteer - aye, would be proud - to hang every Frenchman that normally serves in her. Hang them, or cut their throats. Some of them - and that includes me - would like to kill them even more slowly. Especially her captain - 1 could take a week to kill him: Maria stared at Wagstaffe contemptuously. 'So you are a - a hired assassin; that's what you've just admitted!'
Wagstaffe turned to Ramage, a questioning look in his eye. 'Can I tell her what I saw, sir?'
Ramage hesitated and glanced at van Someren, who was deliberately staying out of the argument, but before he could answer a white - faced and angry Wagstaffe turned back to the girl and described how the Calypso had found the Tranquil. He then told how they had found everyone on board had been murdered, including the women passengers.
'What has that to do with the Nuestra Senora de Antigua and Captain Brune?' she demanded, obviously horrified by the story.
'She was the privateer, he was the captain,' Wagstaffe said quietly. "Captain Brune had all those people killed, unnecessarily and in cold blood. Now he threatens to burn down Amsterdam, your town. He,' Wagstaffe added with biting sarcasm and giving a slight bow, 'has been your country's ally for nearly ten years.'
Maria half turned to Ramage and collapsed at his feet In the second before she fainted Ramage saw in her eyes such agony of mind that he found it hard to forgive himself for not having stopped the conversation many minutes earlier. He was the first to kneel beside the girl and half - turn her so she faced upwards. Her father did not move, and when Ramage glanced up to see if he was going to give any instructions he saw that the Governor's face was rigid and that he had held up a hand to stop his wife going to the girl.
'She has fainted,' he said, 'which seems a fitting end to insulting every one of my guests. I can only apologize and say that I do not agree with a word she said and hope you'll forgive her - she is a young girl who has led a sheltered life.'
His wife nodded in agreement. Apart from an occasional glance down at her daughter - a glance combining irritation, exasperation, disdain and concern in equal proportions, each competing for a leading position but none winning - she seemed to consider that the kneeling Ramage was all the attention the girl needed, and none of the other officers moved.
She recovered slowly and finally her eyes opened and focused on Ramage and as she recognized him he found he could not fathom her thoughts. Hate, contempt, distaste, horror? One of them, surely, but the blue, eyes closed again before he could be sure.
He felt a tap on the shoulder and looked up to find her father standing beside him. 'Well put her on the settee. It will soon pass.'
By the time she was sitting down and obeying Ramage's instructions to breathe deeply, the colour was coming back to her face and her hands were exploring her hair, in case some strands had escaped. Aitken had walked the three lieutenants to a large painting on the wall which showed a group of people skating on a frozen lake, and now the four lieutenants, perspiring from both the tropical heat and the situation, examined the ice and the surrounding snow with great concentration.
Van Someren pointed to a door Ramage had not previously noticed. To the balcony,' he said. 'Perhaps you would be kind enough to take Maria outside, for some fresh air.'
Outside it was cool; darkness had fallen but there was still a gentle breeze from the south - east A few hundred yards away the sea slapped lazily on the beach and over Waterfort the stars of Orion's Belt waited for the Southern Cross to appear.
As Ramage shut the door she walked over to the elaborate tracery of the balcony rail and standing with her back to it faced Ramage as he came towards her. She was silhouetted against the millions of stars that can only be seen from the Tropics, and as Ramage approached, she held out her hands. He walked into her arms and as he held her closely he was pleased that she followed the French fashion: the thin cloth of her dress hid her body from the eye but did nothing to conceal it from the touch.
'I am sorry,' she whispered. 'I did not understand. Your officers - they seem so young . . .'
They are,' Ramage said wryly. 'Aitken is almost my age.'