"When I asked you to smell the muzzle of that gun - number nine gun on the starboard side - you said you could smell nothing."
"Nor could I! Just the usual blacking, of course."
"In your opinion the gun had not been fired recently?"
"No. Nor was that just my opinion; it was the opinion of the men serving that gun."
"But my officers and those of my men who were asked all smelled burnt powder and gave their opinion that the gun had been fired within the last half an hour."
"Yes, they did, and most singular I found it. Had you threatened them?" Shirley asked archly.
"Why were you the only commission officer on deck when the Calypso came alongside?"
"Apart from two or three midshipmen, who were running messages, my officers have various different duties, of course! Really, Ramage, I do find some of your questions naive."
"Perhaps so, but why were all your officers at that moment confined to their cabins with a Marine sentry guarding the gunroom door?"
"There you are, that's what I mean. You know as well as I do that in a frigate like the Jason or the Calypso there is always a Marine sentry at the gunroom door, just as there is one at the door to the captain's quarters and, in hot weather, at the scuttle butt, so what is so singular about this particular sentry? What is curious is that you choose to go down to the gunroom at a time when the officers are in their cabins. I was on the quarterdeck - you saw me - and surely you agree that I am competent to handle the ship without assistance from some callow lieutenant?"
Ramage had a mental picture of the Jason racing across the Calypso's bow, her shrouds missing the jibboom by inches, but this was not the time to thrash it out: it was not a subject that could be reduced to questions and answers even though, according to lawyers (indeed, the whole legal system), every situation must be, even when a man's guilt, and thus his life, depended on answering yes or no to particular questions. "When did you stop beating your wife?" Everyone but lawyers and judicial authorities had heard that "Answer yes or no" joke but whether a man was on trial for murder or treason, or stealing a trinket or poaching a hare, it was "yes" or "no".
Shirley turned and faced Ramage squarely. "Tell me, my dear fellow, are you attempting to remove me from my command? I am your senior by dozens of places on the Post List, as I am sure you are well aware."
And that first question was the one I hoped you would not ask, Ramage thought to himself. He was now standing on the edge of the great pit dug by the Articles of War to trap scoundrels but also equally dangerous to officers trying to carry out their duties in the King's Service.
Board him in the smoke: a good rule when you are not sure what to do next. "Don't you think that attacking the Calypso justifies you being removed from your command?"
No sooner had Ramage asked the question than he realized he had provided a loophole, and Shirley was quick to stick his musket through and open fire.
"I keep telling you, Ravage, and so do my officers and men, that I did not attack the Calypso. You have questioned all of us, yet you persist in this absurd allegation."
Ramage considered for a minute or two, considered the risk of the Jason suddenly attacking ships in the convoy or one of the other frigates, and made his decision. Shirley did not dispute that Ramage had the authority to remove him from his command if there was sufficient justification (something about which Ramage was far from certain). No. Shirley was only disputing whether or not the Jason had fired on the Calypso; whether or not, in fact, he had provided the justification.
"We do agree on this point, then," Ramage said. "We agree that you say your ship did not fire on the Calypso, and we say she did."
"Yes, indeed," Shirley said, "that seems a very fair summary."
Both Wagstaffe and Aitken wrote quickly.
Aitken pushed the paper across to Ramage with the quill resting on top. "I've written down your question and Captain Shirley's answer," he said. "There's nothing else written there."
Ramage immediately guessed his first lieutenant's purpose. He took the pen, wrote in the date and headed it "On board His Majesty's ship the Jason frigate" and, dipping the quill again, said to Shirley: "To avoid any misunderstanding later, perhaps you would care to read that and sign it?"
Shirley read it slowly, nodded as though there could never be any doubt that he would agree, and wrote his signature with a flourish. He gave the pen back to Ramage and slid the paper along the table. "Now you sign it, eh? Then there can be no question of what we disagree about."
Although Ramage did not use his title in the Service, this sheet of paper was becoming (was already?) a legal document, so he signed simply: "Ramage".
"Ah yes," Shirley said jovially, "you fellows with titles don't have so much writing to do as we more common folk."
Ramage smiled. "Our tailors charge us twice as much, so in the long run I'm sure you gain."
"Ah yes, innkeepers too, no doubt," Shirley said sympathetically. "Even ostlers would expect half a guinea tip from a lord, whereas an impoverished post-captain like me in the lower half of the list gets away with a shilling."
Yes, Ramage thought to himself, you look the sort of fellow who would tip a shilling when half a guinea was appropriate: no doubt you would also take mustard with mutton.
"Well, is that all?" Shirley inquired.
"You are so obliging," Ramage said hypocritically and hating himself for it, "that there are two other things I'd like to get cleared up while we're at it. Three things, actually."
"You have only to ask," Shirley said expansively.
"Your orders, what are they?"
"You have no right to ask, of course, but as there is nothing particularly secret about them, I've no objection to telling you. I am taking despatches to the Admiralty from the commanders-in-chief at Barbados and Jamaica."
How the devil could one dislike a man like this? Ramage asked himself. He was not a man one liked in the sense of making him a friend, but he was thoughtful and courteous (when he was not raking you: do not forget that).
Ramage nodded his thanks as Shirley said: "And the second thing? You mentioned three, if I remember correctly. "
"Yes. I would like my surgeon to examine you. I presume you would have no objection to that?"
"Ah, back we go to removing a captain from the command of his ship. You know it can only be done on medical grounds, so it follows your sawbones has to make an appearance."
"Yes, but my surgeon is far from being a 'sawbones' - he was in a practice in Wimpole Street before entering the King's Service."
"He must have done something very dreadful to cause the change, then," Shirley commented. "Still, I'll agree - as long as he doesn't bleed me. I won't be bled. Achieves nothing, bleeding a sick man; just drains the life from him. Remember Ramage, if you want to kill something you cut its throat to let the blood run out. Yet these doctors try to say it does human beings good. Rubbish, sheer rubbish! Hold on to your blood, never know when you'll need it. Very well, now what's the third on your list?"
"I would like to leave Lieutenant Wagstaffe on board with you."
"I'll be glad to have him on board. I'm sure he'll find the experience invaluable. Experience - it's everything for the young naval officer. Battles, boarding parties, hurricanes, wooding and watering - everything!"
Ramage glanced at Wagstaffe who, red-faced but apparently more amused than angry, was writing with great concentration.
"Speaking of surgeons," Shirley said, "always remember one thing." His voice was solemn and Ramage expected he was about to go back on his agreement to be examined by Bowen. "Two things, rather, and stand by them no matter what the surgeons might say. Three things, in fact. There are only three sovereign remedies. Just three. Mind you, the sawbones don't like to admit it because knowing the three sovereign remedies puts them out of business. Would you care to know them?"