Ramage's Diamond

Ramage stared at the boy. ' "Very soon" - he said that?'

When Orsini repeated the Italian phrase, mimicking the Genoese accent, Ramage said impatiently, 'Fetch the man. And bring Rossi.'

Zolesi was a stocky man with fair hair and blue eyes, and Ramage guessed that his forebears were mountain folk. He saluted smartly but Rossi, holding a pistol, watched him warily. He began by speaking to Rossi, expecting he would translate, but the seaman said: ‘The captain speaks Italian.'

Ramage, impatient to question Zolesi about the convoy, had first to listen to the man's request to be allowed to serve in the Royal Navy. His story sounded plausible and Ramage noticed Rossi nodding as he described how the French sent naval press-gangs and army squads through the streets, rounding up all able-bodied men.

Finally Ramage interrupted him. There were a few questions, based on what the French lieutenant had said, which would check the man's reliability.

'You were serving in La Mutine?’

'For this operation, sir.'

'Before that?'

'In La Désirée. Forty of us were sent to the schooner. And seventy soldiers.'

'What regiment?'

The man's brow wrinkled. 'The 53rd Regiment, sir.’

'Who commanded La Mutine?’

The first lieutenant of La Désirée. He was killed, sir.'

Ramage nodded. 'Is the Surcouf ready for sea?'

'Not yet, sir, but they are working hard.'

"And La Désirée?’

'Accidente!’Zolesi exclaimed. 'They are short of everything: yards, rope, canvas, wood for repairs, blocks, hammocks - everything!'

'Yet the French expect to commission her?'

sOh yes, once the convoy arrives.'

'But that has been delayed,' Ramage said, deciding that Zolesi was not likely to lie in this type of conversation, and the Italian's reply was just what he wanted.

'Delayed, sir? But it's expected within a week! A week - from today, in fact. Have the British captured it?'

Ramage shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don't know, but it's not a large convoy anyway.'

'I don't know how big it is, sir, but the French are terrified of something happening to it. That's why the two schooners were sent out to capture this ship.'

'Will they send out more?'

Zolesi shook his head expressively. 'No! There was a good deal of trouble over these two. They were privateers and the owners refused to let the Navy use them.' Seeing Ramage's puzzled expression, he added: ‘The Governor took them over by decree.'

'But why no more attempts?'

‘I heard the privateer owners sent a deputation to the Governor, swearing that if he tried to take over any more the owners would sink them first.'

'What did the Governor say?' Ramage asked curiously.

'I heard he was very worried: the owners of the privateers are powerful men in Martinique. Now you have captured these two . . .' Zolesi stood with his arms spread out in front of him, palms upturned.

Ramage nodded to Rossi and said in English, 'Take him away and keep him separated from the others.'

'Can he ...’ He broke off, obviously worried that Ramage would think him impertinent.

'Keep him apart and see what else he knows about the convoy and the French defences in Fort Royal. And anything more about the other frigate. You can hint that he'll be allowed to enlist -  and get the bounty, too!'

By now all the unwounded from the two schooners were being guarded by the Juno's Marines. The bos'n and his mates were busy sewing the dead men into hammocks ready for funerals at daybreak, with the gunner cursing that it was going to be a waste of roundshot until Ramage pointed out that there was plenty in the schooners, and it was more appropriate that Frenchmen should be buried at sea with French roundshot sewn into the foot of their hammocks.

Ramage sent for Aitken and Southwick and when they arrived he told them to sit down. The First Lieutenant was holding himself a little stiffly, the result of a bandage Bowen had put on the shoulder to cover a gash from a French pike. Ramage asked if they wanted hot drinks - the galley fire had been lit earlier to give the men a hot breakfast and provide Bowen with the hot water he demanded for the treatment of some of the badly wounded men. When both men refused, Ramage handed Aitken the sick list that Bowen had scribbled out and sent up to him. Nine Junos had been killed, seven seriously wounded and eighteen more had wounds that needed treatment but which allowed them, in an emergency, to go to general quarters.’

The First Lieutenant, his face drawn with weariness but his eyes still bright, passed it to Southwick. 'The figures are fantastic, sir. That's 139 French dead and wounded as against thirty-four Junos killed or wounded, and eighteen of ours were little more than scratches.'

'Surprise,’ grunted Southwick. 'That's what did it. Johnny Frenchman was too confident. The French were just standing there in both schooners, a solid mass of men waiting to leap on board. The Junos just leaned over the hammock nettings and fired right down into them!'

'We were damn' nearly too confident, too,' Ramage said.

Southwick sniffed, 'Well, sir, I'd better report on the schooners. The Mutine's foresail is badly torn and the gaff's broken. They dropped the sail in a hurry and the gaff crushed a couple of their own men. The sail's being repaired and the carpenter is fishing the gaff. It's a long break, so it isn't too difficult. Decks cut up with pistol and musket shots, a few shrouds parted - they're already knotted - and she'll be ready to get under way in an hour. The French had forty seamen on board; we can manage with ten. La Créole suffered no damage to speak of, except for bullet holes in the deck. She can get under way the moment you give the order. I've chosen the two prize crews, as you told me to. It's just a question of...'

'Exactly,' Ramage said, 'who is to command them,'

Aitken nodded. 'It'll take a week to sail 'em to Barbados and get our men back - perhaps more.'

'We needn't worry about Barbados for the time being,' Ramage said, and both men looked up quickly, obviously puzzled. Ramage decided to tease them for a little longer.

‘That Tricolour, Southwick: have Jackson and Rossi finished it yet?'

'No, sir. It's so big. It's taken all the red cloth we have on board including the red baize. I hope you won't be ordering many floggings ...'

'You won't regret it,' Ramage said enigmatically. 'I hope the other men have finished the smaller Red Ensigns.'

'I forgot to tell you, sir, we have three or four on board we can use, apart from the ones in the flag locker.'

Ramage nodded. 'Anyway, we have to decide who is to command the ships.' Southwick gave yet another sniff. It was clear that he considered taking a schooner to Barbados with a prize crew was an easy voyage to be left to the master's mate in one and perhaps the Fourth Lieutenant in the other.

Ramage thought the time had come to stop teasing both the Master and Aitken, but could not resist one last dig.

'I was thinking of putting you in command of La Créole, Aitken, and I hope Wagstaffe can manage La Mutine.'

The First Lieutenant's jaw dropped, and even though the light from the lanthorn was dim, Ramage saw that he had gone white. He realized that Aitken thought he had failed in his duties during the night's attack and was being put in command of the schooner to get him out of the way to allow another of the lieutenants to be promoted in his place.

Ramage reached out and touched his arm reassuringly. 'Cheer up, Aitken. Listen to me for a minute or two and after that you will be perfectly free to refuse the command and stay on board the Juno.’

Aitken swallowed and tried to smile, while Southwick looked completely puzzled, as though he feared for his Captain's sanity.