"Just for that reason, sir: if he'd read the classics - knew something of Roman or Greek mythology, in other words - he's more likely to have chosen the name 'Hercules' for a reason."
"Instead of just thinking of a name at random?"
"Yes, sir; there's more likely to be an association. The connection between where the other hostages are imprisoned and Hercules should not be too difficult to guess." Sir Henry looked defeated: his face showed that the riddle of Hercules had never been far from his thoughts from the day the commandant had spoken the word. "My mind is - well, just a whirlpool at the moment. I think and think . . . but to no purpose. I've been thinking of the Pillars, now you come along with the twelve labours . . ."
"Perhaps we should forget it for a few hours," Ramage said. "Then we can tackle it with fresh minds."
"It's hard to forget," Sir Henry said wearily. "But anyway I'm grateful for your efforts so far: I'm sure the Admiralty is more concerned with those you've saved than the others. The wives of flag and field officers are not regarded as very important. Reasonable enough, of course. Tell me," he said, making a determined effort to change the subject, "you know these waters well? I seem to remember Gazettes printing some of your despatches."
"Perhaps when we destroyed some of the French signal towers?"
"No - that was along the French coast. I remember it well. No, wasn't there something round here?"
"We captured some bomb ketches and used them to bombard a port on the other side of Argentario - that was some time ago."
"That was it," the Admiral exclaimed. "What was the name of the place?"
Suddenly Ramage felt the skin of his face grow cold and the hair at the back of his neck seemed to stiffen, as though he was a dog hearing an intruder.
"The modern name is Port' Ercole, sir, but the Latin name was the Port of Hercules."
The admiral sighed. "Now we really begin the twelve labours ..."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The three admirals, after meeting with Ramage in the great cabin, agreed that Port' Ercole was the likeliest place: likely on several counts. Ramage showed them the original rough chart which Southwick had drawn for the bomb ketches' attack and which had ever since remained rolled up in the chart rack fitted to the deck beams above the desk.
The three of them remembered their brief stay at Orbetello, and they exclaimed when Ramage showed how the northern causeway led to Santo Stefano while the southern curved round to Port' Ercole.
Then Ramage pointed out the forts, built by the Aragonese even earlier than the fortezza at Santo Stefano. "Forte della Stella, along this track, some distance south of the port, is still in good condition and habitable. In fact it almost certainly has a French garrison because it commands the approach to the port. Then up here -" he indicated the larger fort built high on a hill on the causeway side, north of the port, "- there is Forte di Monte Filippo. Tho' which Filippo that is I don't know. Probably not the second, who built the Santo Stefano fortress, because I'm sure these two were built much earlier."
Lord Smarden (who, Sir Henry had told Ramage, had been on his honeymoon when war broke out again: his first wife had died several years ago and his second wife, younger than anyone had expected, was "a delightful woman") jabbed a finger on the chart, indicating Forte della Stella.
"This is quite a way beyond the port. Doesn't that rule it out as a prison for hostages - after all, it means carrying provisions a long way?"
"Of the two, sir, with respect, I'd rather put my money on it. As you can see, there's a rocky islet just offshore there. That's Isolotto, and the Forte della Stella covers the channel between it and Argentario. For that reason alone the French would garrison it. And given the way they commandeer people's donkeys and mules, I don't think carrying more provisions would bother them. The fort obviously has water from a well - they all do."
"Why not Forte di Monte Filippo?"
"Well, in the attack with the bomb ketches which Sir Henry mentioned, we showed the French it wasn't much good for defending the port. I think they'd now rely on Forte della Stella, and also La Rocca, which is a half-hearted sort of fort just here, right above the actual entrance to the port."
Lord Smarden nodded. "Well, this seems to be your country. I'm a fox-hunting man, Ramage, so I'll regard myself as your guest - and riding one of your horses, too!"
Ramage nodded to acknowledge the compliment and then said: "But I don't want to raise any false hopes, gentlemen. Forte della Stella is built above steep cliffs which run all round the coast of Argentario. La Rocca is on cliffs right above the port; Forte di Monte Filippo - well, as its name shows, it is built on a mountain."
"But none of these so-called mountains are very high," Sir William Keeler protested. "It isn't as though we have to storm up sheer cliffs."
"No, sir, monte often means just a steep hill. But -" he glanced at Sir Henry, "- we shan't be 'storming' anywhere."
"How the deuce are you going to rescue 'em, then?"
"They are hostages, sir," Ramage said patiently. "The point about hostages is that those who have them can use them as bargaining counters."
"I know that!" Sir William said crossly. "I learned the King's English before you were born."
The sneer was very apparent, but Ramage ignored it. "If we 'storm' anywhere, or if we try anything but a surprise attack, sir, the French will use the hostages as - well, hostages. Either we shall be told to go away or the hostages will be killed, or they will be killed anyway and even if we successfully capture wherever they are held, the only thing we can do -" he paused, so that his words would hit Sir William like a blow, "- is to give them a decent burial."
"You don't have to put it so crudely, Ramage. After all, the French aren't holding your wife as a hostage."
Before he could stop himself Ramage said bitterly: "No, they've probably killed her."
"Tell us," Admiral Faversham said, badly shocked but anxious to discover what had happened. "You must remember we've had no news since the war began. We don't want to distress you unduly but - well, didn't you marry the Marquis of Rockley's daughter?"
Using the fewest words possible, Ramage told how he and Sarah had been on their honeymoon in France when the war unexpectedly broke out again, and how they had escaped from Brest in the Murex brig to join the Fleet as coincidentally it arrived to blockade Brest once again. The three admirals were appalled to hear that the Murex had been carried into Brest earlier and handed over to the French by her mutinous crew.
"Much as I hate hearing of our men mutinying," said Sir Henry, "at least you stopped the French gaining a brig. And those French seamen of yours dressed up as soldiers who brought us out of Castello, are the same Frenchmen who helped you to take the brig? 'Pon my soul, Ramage, either you have the luck of the devil or you know how to choose people." The admiral paused a moment and realized he had made a tactless blunder. "Your wife, Lady Sarah - you know for sure that the Murex was sunk?"
"The brig could have been captured, sir. But we haven't heard a word about prisoners being taken. With my wife was a post-captain who'd been commanding this ship temporarily, and of course the prize crew taking the Murex to England. Their names haven't been mentioned in the exchange lists sent from Paris . . ."