Ramage pulled the documents back across the desk and began straightening them up, so that their top edges were level. "I think you had better prepare yourself for the guillotine, Admiral. I'm sorry."
Poitier looked Ramage straight in the eye. "There is no reason why you should believe me, but I hope you will listen for a moment. The 'special service' is cancelled - not just postponed but cancelled - so I suppose there is nothing treasonable in my telling you about it.
"A fleet was being assembled in Toulon and Cartagena - there were to be several Spanish ships of the line accompanying us, but no Spanish troops - with transports. Troops were collecting from all over France, but to make up the required strength it was decided to use some forces from the Army of Italy - the men I was to collect at Porto Ercole. They were stationed at various places in the local province - at Grosseto, I think the town was called.
"As you have read in those letters, I was to sail from Toulon with three frigates, meet two bomb ketches at Porto Ercole, embark all these soldiers, and then sail for the rendezvous with the fleet."
Ramage held up his hand. "Where was the rendezvous?"
"At Candia. The fleet was to have sailed for Crete soon after me, although it was due to arrive there first, because I was expected to lose time embarking the troops at Porto Ercole - the army," he said without malice, "is rarely punctual."
He paused for a moment, as though collecting his thoughts. Or, Ramage realized, hurriedly making up more of a story, or ornamenting it. Up to now the story rang true though: certainly it seemed likely, and it was borne out by the letters.
"Where was I? Oh yes, the rendezvous at Candia. That was arranged, and according to the orders I had already received my three frigates provisioned and watered in Toulon for three months. You understand that provisions are difficult to obtain in France these days, and I had a struggle to get even a small amount of cordage and canvas to have as a reserve. I still had to get the extra month's provisions for the troops we were to embark in Porto Ercole.
"Then the minister's aide arrived in Porto Ercole yesterday, while we were loading troops, with the news that the whole operation had been cancelled. The admiral was told that half his ships of the line (five out of eleven) were to be laid up in ordinary, and all the seamen from those five ships with less than a year's experience at sea were to be handed over to the army.
"The orders for myself were that I should pick up the troops in Porto Ercole as arranged, and proceed to Candia. There I was to land the troops, who were to take up garrison duties in the island. The two bomb ketches were to remain there to give some protection to what is otherwise a poorly defended anchorage. Having escorted the bomb ketches and disembarked the troops, I was to return to Toulon with the frigates."
Ramage asked: "Where was the fleet to land this army?"
Poitier paused for a good minute, obviously weighing up his answer. Finally he said: "I cannot tell you. You could guess. There is only one place for which Bonaparte might again consider risking an army and a fleet."
Again? Ramage realized that Poitier wanted him to guess. "Egypt? Where he's already lost an army and a fleet?"
Poitier looked away and in his own mind had not mentioned the word. "The point of the great rendezvous of the fleet in Candia was that we did not think you British would look there, should you learn that we were assembling ships."
Ramage was about to comment that the Calypso comprised about the entire British force in the Mediterranean but held his tongue and gathered up the secret papers. "The letter cancelling the main operation and the orders that you should carry on to Candia are not here."
Poitier looked startled, as though just discovering a theft. But he was also quite clearly trying to remember something. Suddenly he began taking a few folded papers from a trouser pocket. He sorted through them and found letters which were still folded.
Poitier pulled them out with a smile on his face. "These were given me by the minister's aide yesterday: I forgot to put them away with all the other papers, otherwise you would have read them. They belong with the others. Perhaps you will allow me ..." With that Poitier tucked them under the pile, so that they were in date order.
Ramage, admiring the man's subtlety, picked up the pile again. The extra letters were bloodstained and creased.
"Assure yourself of their genuineness and then read them," Poitier said.
Ramage took the first one and examined the seal again, holding the paper against the light to see the watermark, although given the circumstances in which he had obtained the papers, there could be no trickery. He unfolded the letter and read it. Blood had dried across one corner but had not blurred the writing.
It was a copy of a letter from the War Minister himself and addressed to General Bruiton, commanding the French forces at Candia. It said that the attempt on Egypt, of which he had been apprised and for which he had been ordered to prepare provisions and fresh water, had been cancelled, and instructed him what to do with his ships and men. However, because General Bruiton's force had suffered such losses from sickness and desertion in Crete, the troops at present embarked in the vessels commanded by Admiral Poitier were to be landed in Candia to form part of the garrison. The two bomb ketches were to remain at Candia and form part of its defences, the navy instructing the army in the use of the mortars, and once this was done the crews of the two vessels would be put on board "whichever of the frigates Admiral Poitier specified".
Ramage read the letter a second time. Yes, this would be the way the minister would inform people like Poitier. He reached out for the second document, addressed to Poitier and from the Minister of Marine. It said, almost word for word, what Poitier had related - that he was to take his force to Candia.
Poitier had been honest. Ramage slid the documents back into the pile. "I have to leave this cabin for a few minutes." He walked over to the door of the quarter gallery to starboard and pushed it open before going out through the main door, acknowledging the sentry's salute.
Egypt, he thought; Bonaparte must be off his head. At any rate, the drunken artillery colonel need no longer worry about sand.
As Ramage climbed the companionway he remembered bitterly what the French major had known in the prison cell at Orbetello: that information was only valuable if it could be passed on to someone in a position to make use of it. By a combination of luck and blackmail, he had discovered that the French were, at least until a few days ago, assembling a fleet and an army to invade Egypt. The only way he could warn the Admiralty was to sail the Calypso a thousand miles to Gibraltar, and that involved abandoning the most potentially exciting orders he had ever received. The alternative was to send one of the bomb ketches with the news. But it would take weeks to get there ... He admitted that the Admiralty would be justified in bringing him to trial for allowing such delay. . .
CHAPTER TWENTY
As Ramage stepped out on deck, almost dazzled by the sunshine, he saw a small xebec lying astern, a line serving as a painter leading out through a stern chase port and made fast round her mast. The lateen yard, with its furled sail, was curved like a bow. The hull had not seen a coat of paint for a couple of years but like most of her type she was fast.
He was just turning to go to the rail, expecting to find Aitken, when he almost bumped into a small figure with a cutlass belt across his shoulder and giving a salute that made up in keenness what it lacked in martial correctness.
"Report from Mr Wagstaffe, sir," Paolo Orsini said, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. "He gave me command of the xebec, and I have Jackson as my second-in-command, and -"