He watched her as she sat in the low armchair, apparently concentrating on her creased clothes, and he felt ashamed: yes, he had felt defeated, and so had Sidney, and Southwick, Aitken and Wagstaffe, too, for that matter. Anyone thinking about it logically would know he was beaten, but this tiny girl did not bother with logic; she knew instinctively what was wrong and how to put it right. The famous Captain Ramage, he jeered at himself, could slash with a cutlass, or fire a pistol or bring his ship alongside the enemy and board in a cloud of smoke and survive it all, and be called a hero by people who did not know about these things, but he had surrendered at a time when this girl had only just begun to fight.
"I hadn't realized how far it was to London," she said. "Usually when Sidney and I visit the West Country, we come round in one of our ships. But oh dear, how dusty are those roads. The thudding of hooves and the rumbling of the wheels, too: it gives me such a headache, and it is hard to talk ..."
Talk? With whom? Was she not travelling alone? Well, apparently not, but, he told himself sternly, it was none of his business.
He heard Kenton shouting down through the skylight: "Boat bringing Mr Yorke will be alongside in three minutes, sir!"
Her face was tearstained. "Go through to the bed place," he said, gesturing to the cabin in which he slept. "There's a basin and a jug of fresh water. I'll find you a fresh towel."
A couple of minutes later, the Marine sentry called: "Mr Yorke, sir!" and a moment after Ramage replied, Yorke came through the door and stopped suddenly as he saw Alexis. "How the devil did -"
Alexis looked at Ramage. "You see how he greets his loving sister - the next thing is he'll be grumbling about how much money I've spent. Then I remind him it is my own money and -"
"- he says you waste it. Right," Yorke said, "that takes care of the greetings. What happened?"
"I had an appointment with my dressmaker," she said coolly. "And my shoemaker. And one or two other people."
Yorke looked across at Ramage. "She seems to be in one of her skittish moods. Has she told you anything?"
"No, we were waiting for you, so that she didn't have to tell the story twice."
"There are really three stories," she began, "but I'll start at the King's Arms."
Yorke groaned. "Surely we don't have to hear all about your journey to London, at tenpence a mile including turnpike charges and tips."
"No, but you have to hear about the beginning because that's where I met the young man who escorted me all the way to London - to Palace Street, in fact, to Nicholas's home."
She looked at the two men with what seemed to Ramage to be an impish grin, as though she was enjoying teasing them. "Yes, I had just arranged with the innkeeper for the hire of the coach, and paid half the fare in advance, when this young man burst in, very agitated because all the seats were taken in the London mail coach."
"So you offered him a seat," Yorke said crossly. "A complete stranger! He could have been a footpad's accomplice!"
"He could have been, but I only offered him a seat after I'd discovered he was someone we were looking for."
"Who? An honest politician?" Yorke asked sarcastically.
"No, a witness for Nicholas."
"We don't lack for witnesses," Yorke said bitterly. "We just lack witnesses who know what happened on board the Jason."
Alexis nodded contentedly and smoothed her skirt. "This one does."
"And we need to be able to get his evidence into the minutes of the court's proceedings."
"Yes," she said demurely, "that's arranged, too."
"Look here, Alexis," Yorke exclaimed angrily, "this isn't a joking matter."
"I'm not joking," Alexis said, "just listen, without interrupting. It's not often I get a chance to talk for a whole minute so -"
Ramage coughed and Alexis glanced round, smiling.
Then she told how the young man - in fact, only a youth of seventeen - proved to be a midshipman who was leaving his ship and the Navy. He had seemed overwrought, and did not have enough money to get to London: he wanted the innkeeper to accept a ten-day bill of exchange drawn on his father, who was a Member of Parliament. She had felt sorry for the youth, who was clearly well educated, and then discovered he was leaving the Jason for a reason which seemed to hang over him like a shadow.
"So I offered him a seat, and I told him his father could pay for his place when we reached London. I warned him that we would be driving day and night, and that he would have to eat and sleep in the coach, and he agreed: he could not get away from Plymouth quickly enough."
So each of them had climbed up into the coach, the postboys had slammed the doors and swung up the steps with the usual crash, the coachmen had whipped up the horses and they had thundered through the night, both Alexis and the midshipman trying to sleep. When they stopped next morning to change horses they had a hurried breakfast and the midshipman had commented on Alexis's tan, and she had taken a chance and mentioned very casually that she had just arrived in England from the West Indies. As she had intended, this had led to the midshipman exclaiming that his ship had been part of the escort for that convoy.
Alexis explained how she had sensed that the youth - his name was Edward Blaxton, son of one of the Members of Parliament for Maidstone - wanted to tell someone about some awful experience he had undergone, but she had decided she would hear the story more fully if she let him tell it bit by bit, as the days went by during the journey to London. And that was what happened. He would mention one episode when they stopped briefly for dinner, she would hear of a later one when the coach stopped to change horses and there was a quarter of an hour's quiet. An earlier episode might be related while they had a hurried supper as the horses were changed and the coach axles greased.
The journey itself, Alexis admitted, became a nightmare: soon she could remember no other life than being confined inside a coach and breathing the smell of mildew and old leather. Occasionally she and Edward would try to clean it up, because eating a snack amid all the jolting meant that crumbs and pieces of cheese and cold meat would slip down under the leather seats.
Gradually the coach made its way towards London: eventually Exeter, Honiton, Axminster, Bridport, Dorchester, Blandford, Salisbury, Andover and Basingstoke became memories, places where horses had been changed, surly or bowing and scraping innkeepers served or refused meals, where a horse went lame or an axle ran hot. Then the place names became more associated with London than the West Country - she particularly remembered a good dinner at Bagshot, where they also changed horses, with a good road on to Sunningdale. Then Staines and another change of horses, and on to Heston and another change at Brentford. By then, as they approached Westminster, she knew everything that had happened on board the Jason and she had made a dangerous decision: she had told Midshipman Blaxton the reason why she was hurrying to London, and he had immediately volunteered his father's help. His father, it seemed, also knew Addington well and had a London house. She had left Blaxton at his home in Berkeley Square, with him promising to bring his father to Palace Street as soon as possible.
"I had to risk upsetting your father," she told Ramage, "but I needed somewhere as a headquarters. I could have used our own house, but that seemed to be wasting time: I needed to talk with your father and at the same time have somewhere to meet young Blaxton's father. And of course, Palace Street is so close to the Admiralty and Parliament."
She gave a nervous laugh. "To be honest, by now I was frightened to death at what I'd done. I wasn't at all worried until we reached Hyde Park Corner, but when Edward left the coach in Berkeley Square, I suddenly felt very lonely, and I knew that if I opened up our own house I'd just sit in my bedroom and weep. So although I didn't know your parents, I decided that if I was going to weep I'd sooner do it in their company."