He felt Sarah's hand clasp his beneath the tablecloth and press it (reassuringly? sympathetically? affectionately? It was impossible to tell, and a moment later it was withdrawn). Then Captain Hungerford, unable to restrain a grin, said: if those seated at the other side of this table will turn and face in the direction I am looking...'
Stewards appeared from nowhere to turn the chairs, and as soon as a puzzled Ramage sat down again, facing the length of the saloon with a table to the left and another to the right, he saw in the space between them Wilkins's easel, the one the carpenter had made for him. A green baize cloth covered whatever canvas was on it.
Hungerford said: 'Lady Sarah ...' and she stood up, as though to perform a role for which she had been prepared, and walked to the easel, standing to one side. 'It gives us all great pleasure,' Hungerford continued, 'to ask you, Captain Ramage, if you will accept this as a small token of our gratitude. It will show you something which, I am told, you did not actually see for yourself. If you will go up to the easel...'
She was waiting by the easel and watching him, and the look in her eyes seemed to be giving him some secret message he dare not believe. When he was within three or four paces of the easel she leaned across and removed the cloth with the grace of a provocative dancer, and he found himself on the Calypso's quarterdeck watching the Lynx exploding in a great ball of fire. The painting was so real that in the instant of surprise he nearly flung his arms over his face to protect his eyes from the bulging flame. He looked away and caught her eyes and knew he had not been mistaken those few moments earlier, but there was so much confusion: the Calypso's guns spewing smoke and flame, the Lynx exploding, Sarah's face so close, and -
Quickly he stepped back, bewildered, and almost at once he saw Wilkins and realized that the artist had given him a few moments in which he could pull himself together. Two steps and he was grasping Wilkins's hand, congratulating him, and there was a sudden uproar of cheering, clapping and the clinking of knives tapping glasses. Then they were all shouting 'Speech, speech, speech!' and he turned back to explain to her that for a moment the ball of fire had blotted out everything, and her eyes said yes, she knew, but noblesse oblige, and if it helped she loved him, and one day he would know all about that military uniform . . .
He turned back towards Hungerford. 'I don't know what to say.' He stopped and everyone in the cabin realized that he was simply speaking his thoughts aloud. 'The beginning was just like that, then it all went black . . .'
Suddenly he swallowed, stood straight because the deck-head in the saloon was high, and with what seemed to many of the passengers an easy nonchalance, bowed and said: 'On behalf of myself and every man in the Calypso, I thank you for commissioning, and Alexander Wilkins for recording on canvas, this instant in our lives. I shall always treasure it, and it will hang in my family's house in London so that when in future any of my Calypsos want to come and look at it again, or any of you good people, you have only to knock on the door. I cannot guarantee that I shall always be there because, as you know, I am in the King's sea service, and I fear the present peace will be brief...'
CHAPTER TWENTY
The two surveyors came to his cabin next morning with the draft of the new chart of Trinidade and its waters. With Southwick's help they had determined the exact latitude, and the longitude as close as the Calypso's chronometer would allow. Their task, though, was simple enough. White unrolled the parchment and pointed to the numbers representing heights on land and depths in the water.
'We have to name the hills, bays and headlands . . . We'd like you to choose the first ones, sir! At least, one or two bays have been named already, but...'
Ramage glanced up. 'Who named them?'
'Well, sir, the Marquis and his family - and, well, sir, the passengers in the Earl of Dodsworth!'
Ramage pulled the chart round and stared at the writing. The bay in which they were anchored had, pencilled in, 'Ramage Bay', while the headland forming the southern corner had been called Ramage Head. The next bay to the west, where the only accessible stream for fresh water ran into the sea, had been called 'Calypso Bay'. The beach which the survey teams had used was now 'Potence Beach' - a grisly mixture of French and English, since potence was French for a gallows.
'What will Lord St Vincent think of me if he sees my name written all over the chart?' he demanded.
'The Marquis, sir,' White said hurriedly, 'we mentioned that to him, and it seems he knows the First Lord very well, and had already drafted a letter to him about what you did. Now he's going to say that he insists . . .'
Ramage sighed. 'Well, Mr Dalrymple at the Hydrographic Office can always change them later. Now, let's name the rest. This next bay to the west, we'll call that Rockley Bay, in honour of the Marquis. This first bay on the north side could well be named after the First Lord. Write them in, White: Rockley and St Vincent. We'll leave the next two - some of the Lords Commissioners may have ideas. But this little bay here, at the southern end; I want that named "Aitken Bay". He saved the Amethyst and Friesland.'
He looked at the chart carefully. Renwick had worked hard at building the batteries and was in the attack on the Lynx. The biggest battery, which covered the watering place in what was now to be Calypso Bay, was at the top of a hill which was 1,430 feet high.
'That will be Renwick Battery,' he said, tapping the place with his finger. 'Here, where you have the maize and potato fields marked, just call it "Garret's". The old West Indies hands will think it is the name of a sugar plantation!
'Now, we have three batteries left. This one covering the landing beach - Potence Beach, rather - we'll name for Wagstaffe; that one for Bowen; and this one here, covering the northeastern side of the island, for Southwick.'
He paused a minute or two and White coughed. 'Orsini, sir: might we suggest the reef just on our larboard side? It is the nearest to where he helped you...'
'Excellent: pencil it in. He'll be so proud.' Probably more proud of that, Ramage thought, than of all of Volterra, if he inherits it. 'And this big shoal in Calypso Bay - that's Martin's. Poor Kenton has been left out a good deal, so we'll give him this big shoal of rocks in Rockley Bay.'
White swallowed hard. 'I seem to be interfering a lot, but everyone in the gunroom was most anxious that I should ask you if - well. . .' He stopped, overcome by nervousness.
'Who are they suggesting?'
'Mr Wilkins, sir. He's such a good shipmate, and that painting. . .'
'I agree entirely,' Ramage said. 'Have you any suggestions, or should we change some of these round?'
'No, sir, we know which is his favourite hilclass="underline" it's this one overlooking this bay; you've seen several of the paintings he's done from there.'
'Wilkins Peak, eh? Good, write it in.'
Aitken followed the surveyors and reported that the last of the casks of fresh water were being hoisted on board. 'We've loaded thirty-five tuns, sir, and Kenton tells me that if he'd had the boats and casks, he could have loaded five times as fast.'
'So a large squadron could water here in a matter of hours?'
Aitken made an expansive gesture. 'A small fleet in a couple of days. And digging potatoes and harvesting maize at the same time!'
'Very well, then you can start hoisting the boats in. The Earl of Dodsworth is weighing tomorrow at nine o'clock. We can start to weigh about ten o'clock. We'll be spending the next six weeks or so in her company, so we can afford to let her get ahead for an hour or two!'