Ramage and the drum beat r-2 Page 9

  The two ships whose sails were now lifting over the horizon to the north-east were frigates, probably out ahead of the Spanish Fleet, though the ludicrous mirage effect which made them appear upside down also made it hard to identify them.

  But a few minutes after being sighted by the Kathleen's lookouts they'd altered course towards the cutter, each diverging slightly, so that if Ramage cast off the tow and ran either could cut him off. They obviously had more wind up there and were probably bringing it down with them.

  Ramage's face was slack with weariness; his bloodshot eyes seemed sunken now, rather than deep-set. Yet he was freshly shaven, his uniform newly pressed, and without seeing his face one might have thought him an elegant young officer on board a flagship at anchor at Spithead.

  He snapped the telescope shut, rubbed his brow for a moment before snatching his hand away, and repeated to himself once again that his duty now was to destroy La Sabina. Yet he knew the Spanish crew, with help at hand, would never let his men get on board to scuttle or burn her, even if it meant the death of their officers held as hostages in the Kathleen. And there wasn't time to rig an explosion boat.

  Gianna said in Italian, and it made her voice more intimate. 'We haven't much more time together, caro mio...'

  Ramage was startled because he had not seen her and said without thinking, 'No, I'm afraid not,' then added quickly, 'don't worry - you'll probably be rescued again before they get into port. They're bound to be intercepted.'

  'Shall we be left alive to be captured?'

  It wasn't really a question, and she said it so simply that for a moment he missed its significance.

  'We don't fight,' he said almost harshly.

  'Why not? Or let's use the hostages. Why not threaten to kill them unless the two ships let us go - we can make a bargain and leave them the wrecked ship.'

  'My dear,' he said gently, 'we can't.'

  'Why? Why not?' she asked fiercely.

  'Because - well, we can't murder prisoners. And we'd have to if they called our bluff.'

  'Why can't we? It's war. You once gave us a long lecture about how we Tuscans let Napoleon walk through our country without fighting. Now you have the faint heart. Don't forget the Spanish officers broke their word of honour and sent men with knives to try to murder us last night!'

  There must be an answer but he was too weary to think of it, and she added, 'If they capture Antonio and me, we shall be executed.'

  'You won't! They've no idea who you are.'

  'They'll guess. The Spanish captain heard a sentry use my title this morning. I saw the look on his face.'

  And this, Ramage thought to himself savagely, is what happens when you gamble. Capturing La Sabinahadn't really been a gamble - he'd been reasonably certain the explosion boat bluff would work because he knew enough of the Spanish mind to be sure of the outcome. But he'd thought no farther than having La Sabinasafely in tow astern of the Kathleen; he hadn't thought of the consequences. In halving the Kathleen's speed he'd doubled the time for the voyage to Gibraltar, and that doubled the chances of being intercepted. And doubled the chances that Gianna and Antonio would end up on a French guillotine.

  Gianna glimpsed the agony in his mind and touched his arm.

  'Nico - neither Antonio nor I would have changed anything that's happened, anything, do you understand?'

  He was too distraught to answer for a moment and she said fiercely, 'Nico - I talked with Antonio. You were right - we now realize we Tuscans did let that Napoleon walk over our land. But you've given us the will and the chance to regain our pride. We're proud, Nico - proud of the Kathleen, of you, of all those men, and proud of ourselves. Antonio asks only one thing - that we fight those two ships. He'll be killed, but we'd die anyway - the French would see to that. We've nothing to lose. Except,' she added quietly, 'for you and me. We lose each other. So, caro mio, if it's your duty to fight then ...'

  Then, Ramage said bitterly to himself, let's all die in the coffin that Lieutenant Ramage has so carelessly constructed. His eyes were fixed on the tight spiral of metal that was the elevating screw of a carronade. If he surrendered without a fight, the Kathleens would rot in a Spanish prison and Gianna and Antonio would end up on a French guillotine. There was no choice. He swung round to the Master and called, 'Mr. Southwick, clear the ship for action!'

  Southwick rubbed his hands as he bellowed the order, not waiting for the bosun's mate to pipe it first. Not content with that he went to the hatchways and bawled down each of them in turn.

  As soon as he returned aft, Ramage said, 'Double the sentries over the prisoners. Warn 'em if they move an inch they'll be shot. Have we any musketoons on board? If so, see the sentries have them, and make sure they understand my orders.'

  'Aye, aye, sir!'

  Antonio came over, grinning happily and tugging his beard.

  'So we fight after all, Nico!'

  'Yes.'

  'Good. I was afraid you'd ...' he stopped, embarrassed. 'For the best possible reasons...'

  Ramage laughed. 'Antonio - you worry more about my reputation than your own neck.'

  'My neck keeps getting caught up in your reputation,' Antonio retorted. 'And this time I join in the battle, whatever you say!'

  Men were running along the deck, placing sponges and rammers ready beside the carronades, undoing the canvas aprons protecting the flintlocks and snapping them to make sure the flints were sparking well. Others were flinging buckets of water over the deck and sprinkling more sand. And Ramage sensed every man knew that this time it was a fight to the death; a fact and not an empty phrase, and he was humbled by their cheerfulness. They were too busy to dwell on what might have been; too busy for morbid thoughts.

  Jackson, standing to one side, coughed discreetly until Ramage was sufficiently irritated to look at him.

  'Wondered if I might borrow the "bring-em-near" for a moment, sir.'

  Ramage gave him the telescope and within a few seconds the American was scrambling up the ratlines.

  Then Ramage went below, put his secret papers in the lead-weighted box which had holes drilled in it so that it would sink quickly, brought it up and put it by the binnacle, warning the quartermaster to keep an eye on it. By then Jackson was coming down from aloft. With a grin on his thin face and waving the telescope with one hand as he ran the fingers of the other through his thin, sandy hair, he trode across the deck.

  'Beg pardon, sir, but I'm pretty sure of the two frigates.'

  'Well, out with it, man, who are they?'

  'I'm positive one's the Heroine, sir. I was in her for six months. Or she's one of that class. The other - the one to windward - is the Apollo.'

  'You're absolutely sure?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  It made sense. Both ships were in Sir John Jervis's squadron. Ramage saw Gianna was looking at him, a curious yet happy look in her eye.

  In Italian she murmured, 'So we'll share another sunset.'

  Antonio heard and growled. 'To the devil with your sentimental sunsets. Once again I miss my own personal naval battle. Nico, you might ask if I can transfer to one of the frigates; to the one commanded by the most bloodthirsty captain. Otherwise what tale shall I have to tell my grandchildren about how I fought in the Royal Navy?'

  Captain Henry Usher, commanding His Majesty's frigate Apollo, was a large, ruddy-faced and cheerful man with a ready laugh, and as senior of the two captains sat in his cabin listening to Ramage's story with open admiration.

  'Explosion boat! By Jove, a splendid idea! That accounts for it!'

  Ramage looked puzzled and Usher explained, 'When you hove in sight we recognized the frigate as Spanish but couldn't think how you'd managed to capture her, so we suspected the Dons were setting some sort of trap for us. By Jove, and not a bit of paint scratched on your own ship. By the way, you have your orders with you?'

  Ramage gave him the folded paper signed by Commodore Nelson and as he read a new interest showed in Usher's face.

  'This Marc
hesa - is she old?'

  Ramage said warily, 'She's fairly young, sir.'

  'And pretty, no doubt?'

  'Fairly sir, but a tiresome woman. Never satisfied with anything - always grumbling. You know the type ...'

  'And this Count Pitti?'

  'Cousin of the Marchesa, sir. A chaperon,’ he added hopefully, 'he never lets her out of his sight.'

  'Yes - well,' Usher handed back the orders to Ramage, 'since the Commodore places such importance on the safety of your passengers and they're cramped in the Kathleen, I'll take them on board the Apollo. They'll be more comfortable, and safer, too - the Dons are out in force.

  'I must say you can hardly be accused of obeying your orders, Ramage; you've taken just about every possible risk with this young lady. I can't help feeling the Commodore won't be very pleased. Yes, she must come on board the Apollo for her own safety. My mind is made up. And her cousin, too,' he added hastily.

  'May I—'

  'And I have to make all speed for Gibraltar, so I'll leave you to try to get the frigate in. Discretionary orders, of course - you can cast her off if you meet bad weather, and no one'll think any the worse of you.'

  'Perhaps I—'

  'I'll help you out by taking off all the Spanish crew and the officers you have on board and split 'em up between the Apollo and Heroine, so you won't have prisoners to worry about. And I'll give you twenty hands to man the frigate. That's the wisest plan.'

  Ramage knew Usher was right. Gianna would be safe and, with twenty British seamen in the frigate, towing would be much easier. And Usher was being very generous; he could have taken the frigate in tow himself, or ordered Ramage to scuttle her, which would have meant the prize money would have to be shared or lost altogether. Usher must have read his thoughts.

  'Won't affect your prize money; I shan't put in a claim because of my men - by Jove, no! That'd be dam' unsporting. My clerk'll have your orders ready by the time the Marchesa comes on board. It's a pity we both have so much to do, otherwise I'd ask you to join us for dinner.'

  He shook Ramage by the hand. 'Stout effort, m'boy. I'll tell 'em in Gibraltar. Of course, I'll be making a report to Sir John and the Commodore, too. Best of luck.'

  Ramage went down into the boat knowing he was sulking like a schoolboy, and he knew Jackson was curious to know what was happening, but he was in no mood for talking.

  Gianna met him as soon as he climbed on board the Kathleen.

  'All went well?' she asked in Italian. 'They're pleased with you?'

  'Yes - they are taking off the Spaniards and sending English seamen across to the frigate.'

  'Oh good - we'll get her to Gibraltar yet!'

  'The captain of the Apollo, a Captain Usher, is very concerned about your safety - and rightly so.'

  Gianna looked at him suspiciously. She recognized the slightly pompous tone he used when he was about to tell her something he knew she would not like.

  'And ...'

  'And so you and Antonio will go in the Apollo to Gibraltar.'

  'We shall not!' she retorted.

  'Gianna - you must.'

  'No. We stay with you. You have the Commodore's orders. You must obey them and take us to Gibraltar. I insist. Antonio insists, too. We both insist. I shall tell this Captain Ushair!'

  'But Captain Usher can give me new orders in the circumstances. My job was to get you both to Gibraltar safely. Captain Usher can do that better. And,' he warned, knowing it was the only thing that would end her defiance, 'if he wanted to, he could get me into a great deal of trouble over the frigate. Instead he's writing a favourable report.'

  Antonio, who had heard most of the conversation, took Gianna's hand. 'It's the best way,' he said reluctantly. 'We are a - a preoccupazione for Nico. He must concentrate on towing his prize; but with us here, he's thinking always of our safety.'

  Southwick came up and saluted. 'Lot's of boats putting off from the Apollo and Heroine, sir. Look as if they are pulling for the Spaniard.'

  Ramage outlined Captain Usher's orders.

  'Ah - so we can sleep o' nights without worrying what the Dons are doing at the other end of the cable!'

  Gianna said, 'I'll go downstairs and pack.'

  'Down below,' corrected Antonio.

  'Humour me,' she said, 'I'm doing my best to be obedient. But I am on the verge of mutiny.' She looked at Ramage and said coldly, 'This Captain Ushair - he is handsome? Yes, I am sure he will be. I think I shall enjoy myself.'

  CHAPTER TEN

  Every man of the Kathleen's crew missed Gianna's lively presence. The ship was as dead as if lying to a quarantine buoy at The Nore. Already the Apollo and Heroine had disappeared into the broad purple band of haze joining sea and sky on the western horizon and in an hour it would be dark. Astern the prize was towing in the Kathleen's wake like a docile cow following a dog back to the farmyard.

  For the first time in his life Ramage discovered loneliness was a many-sided thing; not simply being alone. And its worst side was being parted from someone who - and he'd only just acknowledged it - was part of himself. Now she'd gone, he knew that without Gianna he was incomplete: there was no one to share the secret joys of a glorious autumn sunset; no one else who saw the usual, almost prosaic spray sliced up by the bow as flying diamonds forming the Kathleen's necklace; her excitement had exhilarated him and her zest had put new life into the ship's company.

  As he watched La Sabina, Ramage saw a boat pull towards the cutter. Southwick must have completed his work, leaving behind the Kathleen's master's mate, Appleby, to the responsibility of his first command - if that was not too grandiose a description of being the senior of twenty men in a towed prize.

  Southwick was soon reporting that in obedience to Ramage's orders all casks of wine and spirit in the frigate had been staved and the liquor poured over the side, to avoid the seamen getting drunk. There was plenty of water and ample provisions but, Southwick said with disgust, 'The state of the ship, sir! Don't think she's had a scrub for weeks. Not just scraps of food on the mess decks and the galley, sir, but chunks; just like a piggery!'

  'Quite,' Ramage said hastily to interrupt the recital. He could visualize it and guess Southwick's reaction to a ship which was not spotless.

  With that Ramage went to his cabin (at the bottom of the companionway he almost walked forward to his former temporary berth) and slumped in the chair, staring at the dim lantern. Weariness numbed him; he seemed to exist only in his eyes while his body remained remote and detached. Yet with Appleby away in the prize, he and Southwick would have to stand watch and watch about.

  As the cutter rolled the cot slung from the beams overhead swung from side to side and he saw something dark lying on the pillow. It was a long, narrow silk scarf in dark blue embroidered with gold thread. The tiny patterns were all the same, delicately sewn designs of a mailed fist holding a scimitar. Instinctively Ramage touched the heavy gold ring which - from the time the two frigates came in sight - he wore slung by a piece of ribbon round his neck, beneath his shirt. The same design was engraved on it, Gianna's family crest. She had left him a memento - or, remembering her last remark and chilly farewell, had she just forgotten it? - and he wound it round his neck, half ashamed of his sentimentality, and sat back and thought of her and fell asleep.

  Ramage paced up and down the quarterdeck in the darkness: ten paces forward, turn about, ten paces aft and turn again. He had taken the first watch, from 8 p.m. until midnight, slept soundly until 4 a.m. while Southwick stood the middle, and now with dawn not far off he was shivering with cold an hour or so through the morning watch.

  The wind had backed until it was on the beam and the down-draught from the mainsail was chilly. Ramage's clothes felt damp and smelled musty - spray had so often soaked the material that it was impregnated with salt which absorbed the damp night air, and he made a mental note to get his steward to rinse them if there was enough fresh water.

  He shook his head violently, banged his brow with his knuckle
s, but still sleepiness came in waves. Using the old trick of licking a finger and wetting his eyelids to refresh himself, he cursed as the salt in the spray which had dried on the skin made his eyes smart.

  But with a tremendous effort he listened carefully because the distant shouts had finally penetrated his drowsiness. He heard them again: a series of calls, very faint and up to windward on the starboard beam. A seaman padded up to him in the darkness.

  'Captain, sir,' the man whispered.

  'Yes - who is it?'

  'Casey, sir, lookout in the starboard chains. Reckon I just heard shouting to windward and some blocks squealing, like a ship was bracing up her yards. Though I'd better come aft instead of hailing you, sir.'

  'Quite right. I've just heard it myself. Warn the other lookouts. And report anything else you hear - but keep your voices down.'

  A ship close to windward - and the Kathleen advertising her presence by burning a lantern on either quarter and the prize three more.

  Ramage turned to the quartermaster standing beside the two men at the tiller, 'Douse the lanterns, pass the word for Mr. Southwick, the bosun's mate and my coxswain, and send the hands to quarters. But be sure no one makes a sound. There's a ship close by up to windward. And sling a jacket over the binnacle to shield the light.'

  He prayed the prize crew would hear the shouts and snuff out their lanterns as well.

  It'd begin to get light in ten minutes or so. At that moment he heard another shout - to leeward this time, close on the larboard beam, and then a deep creak that could only be the rudder of a big ship working on its pintles. She must be very close for that to be audible. Southwick, Evans and Jackson arrived in quick succession and men were gliding past him barefooted on their way to the carronades, which were still run out.

  Southwick left and after a quick inspection of the men at the guns returned to report the ship ready for action. Once again he was rubbing his hands and Ramage guessed he had the usual expression on his face, like a butcher well satisfied with the meat on a newly slaughtered carcase.

  'Just because we're ready for 'em, they'll probably turn out to be British. You think so, sir?'