Ramage & the Renegades Read online

  Selected Historical Fiction Published by McBooks Press

  BY ALEXANDER KENT

  The Complete Midshipman Bolitho

  Stand Into Danger

  In Gallant Company

  Sloop of War

  To Glory We Steer

  Command a King’s Ship

  Passage to Mutiny

  With All Despatch

  Form Line of Battle!

  Enemy in Sight!

  The Flag Captain

  Signal–Close Action!

  The Inshore Squadron

  A Tradition of Victory

  Success to the Brave

  Colours Aloft!

  Honour This Day

  The Only Victor

  Beyond the Reef

  The Darkening Sea

  For My Country’s Freedom

  Cross of St George

  Sword of Honour

  Second to None

  Relentless Pursuit

  Man of War

  Heart of Oak

  BY PHILIP MCCUTCHAN

  Halfhyde’s Island

  Halfhyde and the Guns of Arrest

  Halfhyde to the Narrows

  Halfhyde for the Queen

  Halfhyde Ordered South

  Halfhyde on Zanatu

  BY JAN NEEDLE

  A Fine Boy for Killing

  The Wicked Trade

  The Spithead Nymph

  BY JAMES L. NELSON

  The Only Life That Mattered

  BY JAMES DUFFY

  Sand of the Arena

  The Fight for Rome

  BY DEWEY LAMBDIN

  The French Admiral

  The Gun Ketch

  A King’s Commander

  Jester’s Fortune

  BY DUDLEY POPE

  Ramage

  Ramage & The Drumbeat

  Ramage & The Freebooters

  Governor Ramage R.N.

  Ramage’s Prize

  Ramage & The Guillotine

  Ramage’s Diamond

  Ramage’s Mutiny

  Ramage & The Rebels

  The Ramage Touch

  Ramage’s Signal

  Ramage & The Renegades

  Ramage’s Devil

  Ramage’s Trial

  Ramage’s Challenge

  Ramage at Trafalgar

  Ramage & The Saracens

  Ramage & The Dido

  BY FREDERICK MARRYAT

  Frank Mildmay or The Naval Officer

  Mr Midshipman Easy

  Newton Forster or The Merchant Service

  BY V.A. STUART

  Victors and Lords

  The Sepoy Mutiny

  Massacre at Cawnpore

  The Cannons of Lucknow

  The Heroic Garrison

  The Valiant Sailors

  The Brave Captains

  Hazard’s Command

  Hazard of Huntress

  Hazard in Circassia

  Victory at Sebastopol

  Guns to the Far East

  Escape from Hell

  BY DOUGLAS W. JACOBSON

  Night of Flames

  BY JULIAN STOCKWIN

  Kydd

  Artemis

  Seaflower

  Mutiny

  Quarterdeck

  Tenacious

  Command

  The Admiral’s Daughter

  The Privateer’s Revenge

  BY JOHN BIGGINS

  A Sailor of Austria

  The Emperor’s Coloured Coat

  The Two-Headed Eagle

  Tomorrow the World

  BY ALEXANDER FULLERTON

  Storm Force to Narvik

  Last Lift from Crete

  All the Drowning Seas

  A Share of Honour

  The Torch Bearers

  The Gatecrashers

  BY C.N. PARKINSON

  The Guernseyman

  Devil to Pay

  The Fireship

  Dead Reckoning

  The Life and Times of Horatio Hornblower

  BY DOUGLAS REEMAN

  Twelve Seconds to Live

  The White Guns

  A Prayer for the Ship

  For Valour

  BY DAVID DONACHIE

  The Dying Trade

  A Hanging Matter

  An Element of Chance

  The Scent of Betrayal

  A Game of Bones

  BY BROOS CAMPBELL

  No Quarter

  The War of Knives

  Peter Wicked

  Published by McBooks Press 2001

  Copyright © 1981 by Dudley Pope

  First published in the United Kingdom in 1981 by

  The Alison Press/Martin Secker & Warburg Limited

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without the written permission of the publisher. Requests for such permissions should be addressed to McBooks Press, Inc., ID Booth Building, 520 North Meadow St., Ithaca, NY 14850.

  Cover painting by Paul Wright.

  The paperback edition of this title was cataloged as:

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Pope, Dudley.

  [Ramage and the renegades]

  Ramage & the renegades / by Dudley Pope.

  p. cm. — (Lord Ramage novels ; #12)

  Originally published: Ramage and the renegades. London :

  Secker & Warburg, 1981.

  ISBN 1-59013-009-X (alk. paper)

  1. Ramage, Nicholas (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Great Britain—History, Naval—19th century—Fiction. 3. Great Britain. Royal Navy—Officers—Fiction. 4. Napoleonic Wars, 1800-1815—Fiction. I. Title

  PR6066.O5 R29 2001

  823’.914—dc21

  2001026631

  The e-book versions of this title have the following ISBNs:

  Kindle 978-1-59013-531-0, ePub 978-1-59013-532-7, and PDF 978-1-59013-533-4

  www.mcbooks.com

  For Kyle and Doc

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  THE tiny island where Ramage and his men fought out their battle actually exists as described, 673 miles from Bahia. Still uninhabited, it belongs to Brazil. It was first surveyed by Captain Philip D’Auvergne R.N., Prince of Bouillon in 1782 and his original chart, in the British Museum, shows he made an error of only about 25 miles in plotting its position.

  D.P.

  Yacht Ramage

  Marigot

  St Martin

  French Antilles

  CHAPTER ONE

  RAMAGE lowered the copy of the Morning Post and listened. A carriage was clattering to a stop outside the house and old Hanson, muttering “Coming, my Lord, coming!” as though someone was already hammering impatiently at the door, was shuffling across the hall. Pausing for a moment when he saw Ramage sitting in the drawing-room he called: “The Admiral’s back, Master Nicholas!”

  Dear old Hanson; for as long as Ramage could remember the butler always muttered “Coming, coming” as he walked across the hall to answer the front door, and at every third step his right hand, with thumb and finger extended, lifted to his face to push his pince-nez back up over the bridge of his nose. It must be a most sensitive nose because Hanson’s spectacles rarely slipped right off the tip to dangle from their black cord. Ramage remembered as a boy, fifteen or twenty years ago, watching fascinated as the butler lovingly polished the silver. Would they … would they … yes, there—but a quick movement of the right hand would, disappointingly, catch them just in time.

  Hanson was always so relieved when any of the family returned home to the house in Palace Street, even after only an hour’s absence, as though a social call or a shopping expedition was as dangerous as a for
ay into dense jungle. On this occasion Ramage’s father had been over to Wimpole Street to call on Lord Hood (who, as a characteristically brief note explained, was beneaped in his house with gout). The two old Admirals enjoyed gossiping and discussing foreign affairs, and certainly Bonaparte’s latest move must have given them plenty to talk about. Had father been able to learn more than the rumour reported in the newspapers?

  Gianna would be pleased the carriage was back: she was anxious to use it to call on her dressmaker. Instead of having the woman visit the house, Gianna wanted to go to her establishment to inspect rolls of materials, and Ramage was hoping his mother would go with her: as the first week of his first leave for nearly two years came to an end, he was at last managing to relax quite happily in an armchair. In a few more days he might agree to plunging into the London social activity, to be shown off by his mother and Gianna, but for the moment (as Gianna had grumbled last night) the bear was happy sleeping at the end of his chain, and would have been much happier to have come back to England and found Gianna and the family staying in Cornwall: Blazey Hall, sitting four-square among the crags and rolling hills, was always peaceful; the village of St Kew was “home,” not London with its noise, smells and crowds.

  Yet London this morning was still surprisingly quiet: the hucksters and piemen had not yet reached Palace Street, the air was still and the house seemed glad of the rest. The high ceiling made the room seem larger than it was, and his mother’s choice of a very pale grey paint and a blue the shade of ducks’ eggs set off the oak panelling. The glass of the diamond panes in the windows showed that Mrs Hanson had kept a close watch on the window cleaner, and the doorknobs shone with a brilliance that would bring an approving nod from most first lieutenants.

  He heard the sharp clatter of the carriage steps unfolding. His father said something to the coachman, Albert, and a few moments later was in the hall, with Hanson taking his coat, hat and cane. Both Gianna and Lady Blazey had heard the arrival and were now coming down the stairs, greeting the Admiral. Ramage heard his mother ask if there was anything wrong, and the Earl must have answered with a gesture because she said: “We’ll join Nicholas in the drawing-room and you can tell us about it.”

  Ramage stood up as his mother came into the room, followed by Gianna. The Countess of Blazey, wearing the large amethyst brooch Ramage had given her last week on her 51st birthday (causing her to burst into tears, exclaiming that his unexpected return to Britain and a month’s leave was the best present she could have), sat down and said: “Your father is just going to change into some comfortable clothes … Now, tell us what the newspapers have to say, so we are all prepared for his gossip.”

  Ramage knew Gianna was becoming excited by the rumours, but both he and his father had discounted them to her; there was no point in letting her build up hopes to have them smashed when it was discovered that the British government was the victim of a spiteful jest by Bonaparte.

  “I haven’t read The Times yet, but the Morning Post only reports what we’ve already heard.”

  “Read it, caro,” Gianna said.

  “There are a few lines on the front page and I am sure it’s just speculation, not based on anything they’ve been told by the Secretary of State’s office.”

  “Read it, anyway,” Gianna said firmly. “This Lord Hawkesbury is still so pleased at finding himself His Majesty’s new Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs that he talks only to the King and the Archbishop of Canterbury.”

  The Countess laughed. “Surely you hardly expected him to reveal matters of state at last night’s ball, my dear? After all, the Duchess of Dorset was standing beside you, and she’s a terrible gossip.”

  “I expect him to provide information for the ruler of a friendly state invaded by Bonaparte. After all, I am the Marchesa di Volterra!”

  “Yes, dear,” the Countess said, smiling at what she called Gianna’s “imperious outbursts,” “but if Hawkesbury had any news about Volterra or, indeed, Tuscany or even Italy, he might tell you if you called at his office in Downing Street, or his home in Sackville Street, but hardly at a ball!”

  “He did not suggest I call,” Gianna said coldly. “Is he one of these new Irish barons? Wasn’t he known as ‘Jenks’?”

  Her tone, Ramage knew, was haughty enough to freeze even the chilly Secretary of State. “He’s the son of the Earl of Liverpool. He’s also Member of Parliament for Rye and his nickname comes from his family name, Jenkinson.”

  “This Liverpool—a new creation?”

  Ramage laughed and the Countess joined in. “Yes, ‘a new creation.’ His father received an earldom about five years ago and Jenks has one of his father’s courtesy titles. Like me, in fact, except I don’t use it.”

  “I wish you would,” Gianna said, beginning to thaw. “You are not ashamed of being the son of the Earl of Blazey, and you inherited one of his titles, so why not use it?”

  “Darling, I’ve told you enough times,” Ramage protested. “Admirals with knighthoods don’t like having young captains serving under them with titles like ‘earl,’ or ‘viscount.’ It can often mean midshipmen and junior post captains have higher precedence at receptions than their commander-in-chief.”

  The Countess said: “If Nicholas had attended a dinner at which Hawkesbury was present, before he became a minister, Nicholas would have had much higher precedence—if he used his title.”

  “All the more reason for using it,” Gianna said. “Jenks is a cold pudding.”

  “A cold fish,” Ramage corrected.

  “Accidente! I always know when I am winning an argument because you begin correcting my English!”

  “Nicholas,” the Countess reminded him, “you were going to tell us the news in the Post.”

  “Ah, yes. It says that—well, I’ll read the item. ‘We understand that M. Louis-Guillaume Otto, the French Commissioner for the Exchange of Prisoners, resident in London, has been a frequent visitor at the office of the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs during recent days. It is believed that M. Otto, who has been living in London since the beginning of the present war, has been acting as an envoy of Bonaparte, discussing proposals from Bonaparte for a general peace.

  “‘We further understand that Lord Hawkesbury has put Bonaparte’s proposals before the Cabinet and that Mr Addington has informed the King of the details. We believe Mr Pitt’s supporters are violently against a peace. M. Otto can rely on the support of Mr Fox and his faction.

  “‘M. Otto has had little official work to do for the past two years: so few French ships put to sea that the Royal Navy cannot take many prisoners. On the other hand the bold British ships are constantly attacking the enemy’s coasts and ports and naturally some are lost, so the French have many British prisoners in their jails. Unfortunately few can be exchanged because we do not have enough Frenchmen to make the numbers even.’”

  Gianna sighed and rearranged the skirt of her pale dress. “Let us hope Bonaparte’s terms are generous.”

  The Countess shook her head disapprovingly. “Gianna, I know you want to go back to Volterra, but don’t let us fall into a trap just because we want peace.”

  “No, Bonaparte would not be offering terms unless it was to his advantage to end the war,” Nicholas said.

  At that moment the Earl came into the room: a tall, still slim man with silvery white hair and the same thin, almost beak-like nose and high cheekbones of his son. Gianna looked from Nicholas to his father. Yes, she thought, that is how Nicholas will be in thirty years’ time. For the first time since she had met him, she felt she could think of him in old age: until now he had been at sea, being wounded regularly once a year, being in action at least once a month … Peace would mean he could resign his commission and live in London and Cornwall.

  And now, also for the first time, she could picture him growing old without her beside him. Until recently, she always thought of their lives after the war as being lived together, but now, after the years she had lived here in England
, mostly at St Kew, she accepted that it was impossible. Noblesse oblige. It was a phrase, but for the two of them it was a code, a law—and for her a sentence of eventual banishment.

  In the first couple of years, when she thought of little else than Nicholas and returning to rule her kingdom of Volterra the moment Bonaparte’s troops were driven out, she had ignored religion. Yet she was Catholic and Nicholas was Protestant. Marriage would force Nicholas to agree that their children would be Catholic, and in turn that would mean one of the oldest earldoms in Britain would become Catholic the moment Nicholas died after inheriting from his father.

  The twelfth Earl of Blazey a Catholic … For the first year or two in England she could see no difficulty about such an old Protestant earldom changing its religion to Rome, but eventually she had come to understand that Britain was built on Protestant foundations, and to ask Nicholas (who would be the eleventh Earl when he inherited from his father) to sacrifice the earldom—for that was how it would be regarded—was something that an enemy might do, but not the woman who loved him.

  Her other plans—she saw now they were but dreams—were equally impractical, because of that same phrase. Her idea that Nicholas would resign his commission after the war and come to Volterra as her husband was hopeless, and Nicholas himself had made that clear. Volterra, still turbulent after years of French occupation and no doubt still affected by the talk of French revolutionaries, would be in no mood to accept a straniero as their ruler’s husband; not even one who spoke Italian as well as any of them and who had rescued their ruler from Bonaparte’s troops. A foreigner was someone from the next state; to some people a man from the next town. She thought that Nicholas might have in mind that she would hand over the kingdom to her heir, her nephew Paolo Orsini, at present serving as a midshipman in Nicholas’s own ship but—as she had finally been forced to admit to herself—there were at least two things preventing that. First, Volterra, once liberated, would need a firm ruler for the early years of peace, someone who understood the complicated relations, friendships and enmities of the leading families. Paolo knew nothing of all this, and might well fall victim to an assassin. And secondly, his life was now the sea: it was unlikely he would exchange the Royal Navy for the falsehoods and sycophancy that made up life at Court.

  Paolo was a new generation: he had never lived in an atmosphere of noblesse oblige so he would sacrifice nothing for it. For her and Nicholas it was as much a part of life as breathing and, she realized with something approaching bitterness, comparable with breathing: it was always there, unobtrusive, noticeable only when you thought of it, but an essential part of life itself.