"Serve 'em plenty of wine before the first course, sir," Southwick advised. "It makes a sort of pond for the salt tack to float on."
"That's an old trick," Ramage said. "Start 'em talking and drinking for half an hour and then they don't notice what they're eating."
Ramage paused at his bed place to wash his hands, went through to the coach to measure a distance on a chart, and then on to the dining place. The cabin was small, almost entirely filled by the dining table, chairs and the mahogany, lead-lined wine cooler.
The three admirals, two generals, the marquis, two earls and one viscount were already seated, chatting while drinking wine from glasses that Silkin (long since trained in this particular trick) kept filled.
General Cargill's voice was loudest. "Guile be damned," he was telling Earl Smarden. "Land a hundred well armed men and advance in regular order. Only way against this French rabble. Their officers were butchers and bakers only a few years ago: they can't control their men and don't understand tactics."
"Most of Bonaparte's best marshals were butchers and bakers a few years ago," Sir Henry said mildly. "They exchanged cleavers and baking tins for batons."
"And where's it got them?" Cargill sneered.
"I haven't had a chance of looking at a map of Europe lately, but the last time I saw one it seemed to have got them quite far. All of Europe, for a start."
"Ah, wait until we can get at them," Cargill said, "we'll soon send them packing!"
Admiral Faversham shook his head, pretending to be puzzled. "I thought we had been able to get at them - Sir John Jervis and Nelson at Cape St Vincent; Nelson at the Nile and at Copenhagen. For the moment the details of the Army's activities escape me - except of course for Egypt."
"Don't be absurd, Faversham," Cargill exclaimed hotly, "we can only fight where the Navy carries us!"
"Probably that fellow Dundas has stopped overwhelming the Admiralty with any more of his silly ideas," Sir Henry said drily. "Our Secretary of State for War is the strongest argument for peace. Ah, Ramage, there you are. How I wish you commanded a ship of the line - a frigate is rather crowded with so many passengers!"
"Yes, sir," Ramage agreed as he took his seat at the head of the table, "and we'll all wish for a three-decker once we have the ladies on board!"
As though the comment was a signal for which he had been waiting, General Cargill turned to Ramage and said crossly: "I was just telling Admiral Faversham that this idea of using 'guile' is nonsense. A frontal attack in regular order, that's the only way of tackling these Frenchmen."
"Oh goodness me, how I agree with you, sir!" Ramage said emphatically, and three startled admirals looked up sharply.
Cargill took a few moments to recover from his surprise and he then turned to Sir Henry. "You see, Faversham - even he agrees with me."
Sir Henry was learning, and contented himself with a nod.
Admiral Keeler said quickly: "I don't think that Ramage quite understood the point you're making, Cargill."
"Indeed I did, sir," Ramage said politely. "The general said the only way to beat the French - on land, of course - is by a direct frontal attack in regular order because by and large French troops are a rabble. I know nothing of French troops, but I am sure he does: such an opinion must be based on a great deal of experience on the field of battle."
He paused, and noted how Cargill flushed. No, Ramage decided, the gallant general has not yet smelled powder. He then saw that while Sir Henry idly turned his glass by the stem and appeared supremely bored by the conversation, the other two admirals, the marquis, two earls and the viscount looked alarmed at Ramage's words, and even Lieutenant-General the Earl of Innes seemed uncomfortable, as though only loyalty to the Army stopped him from flatly contradicting Cargill.
"No, sir," Ramage told Admiral Keeler, "this French rabble that General Cargill so well describes is always met by direct frontal attacks in regular order - the Austrians have been doing it all the time, and I am sure the War Office in Whitehall has it in mind that the British Army will employ the same tactics, once we can fight the French on land."
"But for God's sake!" Admiral Keeler exclaimed, "the French beat the Austrians every time they meet!"
"Oh yes, indeed they do, sir," Ramage said dreamily, and Sir Henry stopped twiddling his glass and put it down on the table, the better to concentrate. He was slightly deaf on the left side; he turned so that his right ear would miss nothing.
"You see, sir," Ramage said to Sir William Keeler, speaking lightly as if telling him the time of breakfast next morning, "there seems to be some misunderstanding about the nature of the enemy. I am a very junior post-captain, and it would not do for me to argue with a general about military affairs. About naval affairs, naturally I am better informed."
"I should think so!" Sir William snapped. "And you have your orders from the Admiralty."
"Of course, sir," Ramage said respectfully, "and I am given freedom in the way I carry them out."
"What the deuce has all this to do with the point I'm making that French troops are a rabble, and we need to make a frontal attack?" asked Cargill.
"Nothing, sir," Ramage said politely. "I don't think anyone is arguing with your professional views on tactics. Most certainly I wasn't. . ."
"Then who decided on this 'guile' business?"
"Ah, I think that's where a misunderstanding has arisen. The objective - perhaps some people are not clear about our objective?"
Sir Henry held up his glass as Silkin came round with the decanter. This young fellow Ramage, he thought, can tie Cargill in knots if he has a mind to, whether the subject is military tactics or wet-nursing a baby. It is a joy to listen to a young man presenting a well thought out argument; it flows smoothly, like this wine. Fortunate indeed, Sir Henry decided, that he had ended up on board a frigate commanded by a fellow like this.
"I'm in no doubt about the objective," Cargill declared. "Damned obvious what it is. The objective, and the means of achieving it."
Ramage nodded. "I am glad to hear you saying that, sir," he said, "so we are in agreement."
"Agreement?" Cargill repeated suspiciously. "Agreement over what?"
"You're teasing me, sir," Ramage said, "just because I am a sailor, without your military experience."
Sir Henry recognized his cue. "Well, Ramage, I'm sure the marquis and the other gentlemen would like to hear your views on the objective and the means of achieving it. . ."
Ramage looked round innocently at the marquis, who nodded vigorously.
"Oh, in that case . . . well, we are lucky because of course unlike our former Austrian allies, our objective is not the defeat of a French army but the release of several women hostages held by the French army.
"As long as the helpless role of 'hostage' is borne in mind, obviously there can be no direct frontal attack, otherwise the hostages would be killed out of hand.
"I think that was where General Cargill was being misunderstood: he was saying that French troops should be attacked from the front, but of course attacking the French troops is the last thing we want to do; after all, we are a band of rough sailors doing our best to rescue a group of women hostages. The wives of several of you gentlemen."
Neatly done, Sir Henry decided. Ramage was clever enough to see there was no advantage in hacking Cargill down with a cavalry sabre; instead he had slipped in a narrow-bladed stiletto. Now Cargill could not disagree with anything Ramage said without appearing both boorish and foolish.