Ramage and the Renegades

Finally Ramage sat at his desk, his arm resting on the flat surface and his face pale and wet with perspiration, his hand shaky and his knees only doubtfully reliable.

'So the survey boats and the one doing the soundings went off as usual?' he asked Wagstaffe.

'Yes, sir. One of the young seamen wore a hat and jacket of Martin's, and that painter fellow Wilkins wore one of my coats and hats today and went on shore with the surveyors.'

'Wilkins? What on earth for?'

'He mentioned something about the Lynx being so close to the beach. He took notebooks and sticks of charcoal with him.'

'Does he want to sketch the Lynx then?'

Wagstaffe looked away and said noncommittally: 'I think he had in mind that - well, he wants to do a painting of the Calypso capturing the Lynx, and he'd get the best view from the beach: the Lynx is barely a hundred yards out.'

Ramage thought for a moment and then realized that almost the last place for an artist to be would be on board the Calypso.

'How many men are we short?'

'Twenty-two are away in the prizes (Orsini, Jackson and Rossi came back with you last night, sir: Bowen needed help to hold the chair upright across the thwarts). Twenty-four in the survey and sounding boats: forty-six men, and Aitken, Kenton and Martin. I didn't send Orsini off in the soundings boat this morning.'

'Why?'

'He was rather concerned about you, sir, and until you woke . . .'

'Orsini is simply another member of the ship's company. Remember that, Mr Wagstaffe.'

'Aye aye, sir,' the second lieutenant said, thankful that it had passed off so easily. The boy was sure the captain was going to die, and that combined with the knowledge that both men were very worried about the Marchesa had made him agree that Orsini could stay on board. But the way things were going, the Calypso was not going to be the best place to spend the day . . .

'Now listen carefully,' Ramage said. 'First things first. The captain must be comfortable. I want that armchair from the Earl of Dodsworth put down on the larboard side of the binnacle box, where I can sight the compass.'

Both Southwick and Wagstaffe laughed with him, and the lieutenant said: 'I knew that chair would come in useful! The bosun was proposing to heave it overboard!'

'Now,' Ramage continued, his voice becoming serious. 'Guns on both sides loaded with grape but not run out, of course. Decks wetted and sanded, but make sure no one from the Lynx can guess what's going on by seeing water pouring out of the scuppers or spot the washdeck pump rigged ... I want the lashing on the bitter end of the anchor cable untied down in the cabletier, so that we can let it all run out: I don't want to lose time and make a noise cutting the cable with an axe -'

'Can I buoy it, sir?' asked Southwick. 'Seems a pity to lose an anchor and a new cable.'

'Yes, by all means. Men to have arms listed for them in the Watch, Station and Quarters bill, but again, make sure no one is seen from the Lynx marching round wearing a cutlass. Leave the grindstone down below! But make sure the topmen have sharp knives - I want those gaskets cut: don't waste time untying them. The sails must be let fall and sheeted home and the yards braced in moments, not minutes.'

He paused as a wave of dizziness made the cabin tilt, and for a few moments he could not understand why both Wagstaffe and Southwick were sitting horizontally, but after a few deep breaths it passed.

Southwick then took a deep breath, as though he was going to dive over the side. 'That chair, sir. Supposing we put it right aft, on the larboard side against the taffrail, then you'd -'

'- be out of the way of the quartermaster and not such a target for sharpshooters in the Lynx,' Ramage said.

'Well, sir, that's quite true; a sitting target, if there ever was one,' the master said, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was offended.

'What time do we start, sir?' Wagstaffe asked tactfully.

'We can start as though we intend airing sails. Send four or five topmen aloft to let fall the foretopsail, untying the gaskets; but make sure the maintopsail and mizentopsail gaskets are cut. That'll save us a few minutes.'

'The Marines, sir?'

'Is Renwick on board?'

'Yes, sir: I stopped him going on shore with the surveyors. All the Marines are on board.'

'Very well, they will be sharpshooters, but must dress as seamen. That man Hart will suspect something if he sees groups of Marines in uniform.'

'And the prisoners we take, sir: there may be several British. I suppose they'd be different from prisoners of war?'

'There's no war,' Ramage said deliberately. 'All the Lynxes are pirates. The British - well, that'll be for the Crown lawyers to decide, but they're probably traitors as well. The matter won't arise unless we have prisoners, of course.'

'No, sir,' Wagstaffe answered, and then stared at Ramage as he realized the real significance of what his captain had just said. The lieutenant leaned forward as Ramage said quietly: 'Those brave fellows were prepared to murder women and children, and I'm afraid that if we take them to England some clever man of law may charm a judge...'

'Aye, charm, bribe, call it what you will,' Southwick said. 'No matter what happens, no one in England is going to believe what we've seen and heard out here. Pity we can't try 'em on board.'

'Well, we'll see,' Ramage said judicially. 'Let's see how many prisoners we take.'

Sarah stood on the afterdeck of the Earl of Dodsworth with the other women, the six Calypsos still pretending to guard them. Since the rescue, Mrs Donaldson seemed rarely to be more than a yard away, prattling, questioning or grumbling.

'This Lord Ramage,' she said. 'Why doesn't he take his ship and sink these wretched pirates? After all, his ship is bigger.'

'He was far from well last night,' Sarah said mildly.

'Oh, a mere cut on the arm, so my husband said, and he saw him when he carried a chair up. What they wanted a chair for, I don't know. With arms, too!'

Sarah could see that the Calypso was built for speed and for fighting: she had never before compared a frigate with a merchant ship, but the Heliotrope, for example, was a positive box while the Calypso was lean, seeming to contain power, like a coiled spring. Like Nicholas, she thought, like Nicholas when he was not wounded.

'You saw that Lord Ramage last night,' Mrs Donaldson said.' Was he badly wounded? They fetched the surgeon from that frigate, so my husband said.'

'No, a mere cut on the arm, just as your husband said.'

'Then why all the fuss? Why isn't he doing something? After all, his father's an admiral and a peer of the realm, so you'd think the young fellow would have - well, some sort of tradition.'

'It isn't tradition he needs,' Sarah said quietly. 'It's blood.'

'Blood? My dear, do you mean he lacks breeding? Isn't he really the Earl's son? So the Countess was faithless, eh? Well, one can never be sure, my husband always says.'

'Blood,' Sarah said, even more quietly, 'that flows through the body. He lost most of it in the sea between here and the Heliotrope. He might have died and then,' she added, hating the woman's vulgar and crude mind, 'the pirates would have come back and probably taken you to the Lynx.'

'Oh la!' Mrs Donaldson squealed, and fainted like a tent collapsing, and Sarah walked away to the taffrail, angry that she had let herself be provoked by the woman.

She looked across at the Calypso again. Which was Nicholas's cabin? She could picture Bowen with his medicine chest, and Southwick, too: they would have seen him already this morning; might even be with him now. He could have had her cabin, then she could have sat with him, and helped Bowen.