The purser was at her elbow, asking in a whisper if everything was satisfactory, and she assured him it was, and as soon as he had left the saloon, Sidney was standing beside her.
"At this point the ladies withdraw," he said, "and leave the gentlemen to their cigars."
"They do indeed," Alexis agreed. "I'll follow them . . ." Sidney Yorke knew he was beaten and with a grin he turned to the men. "We must forget the social niceties, I'm afraid: my sister was brought up among savages ..."
"Only one," Alexis retorted, "and that was my brother, and the only manners he has, I regret to say, are those I've taught him."
"It must have been an uphill struggle," Ramage said. "But as an hostess you more than make up for his deficiencies."
"Hear, hear!" Southwick said gruffly, followed by Aitken, who was still slightly out of his depth, finding the mixture of a formal meal and the easy informality of old friends hard to follow. He knew that only himself, Paolo and Mr Yorke's sister had not sailed together in the Post Office packet, and he now appreciated for the first time that it had been a desperate business, with Britons committing treason.
The Yorkes, Aitken now saw, were not just "trade": he had picked up enough of the social rules and regulations to know that "society" as typified by the Marquis of Rockley, for example, who was Mr Ramage's father-in-law, would not normally mix with "trade", in this case a shipowner. But it was now very clear that Mr Yorke and Mr Ramage were extremely good friends and Mr Yorke was from an old family and descended from the famous Ned Yorke, who, a century and a half ago, led the Buccaneers and later became the most powerful man in Jamaica (and probably in the whole West Indies) - certainly the man most feared by the Spaniards on the Main. And Mr Yorke was his several greats nephew. How many of that old Ned Yorke's pieces of eight and Jamaica plantations were still in the family? Both brother and sister had that ease of manner that came with wealth, and they both had the good taste and restraint that came from good breeding. Aitken realized that somehow he had learned while serving with Mr Ramage how to distinguish all this. He knew well enough that he had learned from Mr Ramage a good deal of seamanship and all he knew about sea warfare, but he had not (until this moment) realized he had also learned something about society. He did not live "in society" naturally, but he had discovered that the real society (as opposed to the nouveau riche) was quick to open its doors to men of ability. The door stayed shut to those who knocked on it with a bouquet of pretensions, but it was flung wide open for men like Southwick: brave and honest men who were recognized as being more at home with a sword and pistol than cut glass and spotless napery.
Aitken was just realizing that Mr Ramage had been unconsciously showing him how to open some of the social doors, when he saw the door of the saloon open and one of the ship's officers signalled to Mr Yorke, who immediately left his seat, spoke to the man, and came back to Mr Ramage.
"Sorry, Nicholas, but the Calypso's hoisted a signal with our number over it, so I presume it is for you." He described the flags.
"They've sighted a strange sail," Ramage said. "Well, it's time we made our farewells." He walked round the table. "The memory of today's visit will last a longtime, thanks to our hostess. I'm afraid we have very plain fare in the Calypso, but the warmth of our welcome will - I hope - make up for the culinary deficiencies." He kissed Alexis's hand and led the way to the door, followed closely by Aitken, who saw that the Emerald's officer had already called the Calypso's boat's crew.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ramage was already settling down in the boat's sternsheets as Jackson began giving orders to the men at the oars when he saw the Calypso fill her backed foretopsail and start to run down towards the Emerald.
"Mr Wagstaffe's going to make it easy for us," he commented to Jackson. "He'll come across the Emerald's stern and heave-to to leeward of us."
"He's spoiling us, sir," the American coxswain replied. "It won't put muscle on these men's backs just letting them row down to leeward. They need a couple of miles to windward!"
"I don't, though," Ramage said. "I've just had a splendid dinner and I'm damned if I want to be soaked with spray. Nor does Mr Southwick - he's about ready to doze off."
As he spoke Ramage was looking round the horizon. He had not wasted time looking round while on the Emerald's deck because a distant sail would already have been closely inspected from the Calypso's masthead, and whatever the identity or intention of the stranger, he could do nothing about it until he was back on board the frigate.
Wagstaffe met him as he stepped through the Calypso's entryport and his quick salute was followed by: "Over to the southeast and well up to windward, sir: a frigate about five miles away and closing. She was steering north when we first spotted her. I think she was slow to see us, because it was a good ten minutes before she bore away to head for us. Her lookouts must have been dozing."
"Hmm. Ten minutes! Time enough for a good snooze. I trust you've assured yourself she is not enemy?" Ramage asked ironically.
"Yes, she's British-built, sir, and British-cut sails. As you see, she's not close enough yet for us to be able to read flags."
"Very well. Beat to quarters, Mr Wagstaffe."
The second lieutenant looked startled. "Standing orders, Mr Wagstaffe," Ramage said sharply. "We must meet every strange sail ready for action."
"Yes, I know sir, but . . ."
"Mr Wagstaffe," Ramage said patiently, "we captured the last two prizes without too much trouble just over a month ago when they assumed that because this ship is French-built she is still in Bonaparte's navy. That ship over there -" he nodded towards the approaching frigate, still little more than a faint smudge on the horizon, "- might have been built in an English yard, but since then she could have been captured by the French who intend playing the same trick on us that we've just played on them. Anyway, it's time that young drummer gave his goatskin another good thumping."
"Aye aye, sir," said an embarrassed Wagstaffe, who realized that the combination of escorting a convoy of merchant ships (which could hardly be less warlike than the mules they were called) and the fact that the destination was England had combined to dull his normal sharpness. On the way up to Barbados from Devil's Island, he recalled ruefully, any sail, be it even a wretched dugout canoe spreading some old cloth to help her to leeward, put him on his guard.
And that, he told himself, is why some men become admirals and others stay lieutenants. Not an invariable rule, admittedly, because in all too many cases influence and patronage helped, but to be a competent captain or admiral, then you had to react precisely as Mr Ramage had done. He recalled the exchange. Lieutenant Wagstaffe had said, in effect: "Ah, a British frigate has just hove in sight." But Mr Ramage had said: "Ah, a British-built frigate has just hove in sight. But is she British?"
The other thing, Wagstaffe thought to himself as he looked round for Orsini, was that Mr Ramage would not have wasted two or three minutes with his head full of idle thoughts. "Orsini!" he bellowed, "tell the drummer to beat to quarters! Step lively there and be thankful that's not a French fleet up there to windward!"