The convoy sailed from the Sound next day and as Ramage and Southwick watched the ships weighing, shepherded by a frigate and two sloops, Southwick commented: "Admiral Goddard must be sure of himself ..."
Ramage, thinking of the brief letter from the deputy judge advocate which was now locked in his drawer, nodded in agreement. "Still, they haven't realized yet who the Yorkes are. As a shipowner, Mr Yorke's word will carry some weight."
"Maybe, and maybe not," Southwick said. "But don't let's anticipate too much unhappiness. Have you heard from your father, sir?"
"Not yet: there hasn't been time. But I want him to stay out of sight. The Press will eventually make a great song and dance, although the Morning Post is likely to be on my side. It has never liked the Prince of Wales and perhaps it doesn't like Admiral Goddard either! Anyway, don't forget it takes about a week for news to reach London from here."
Southwick gave one of his famous sniffs, this time clearly indicating contempt, and after looking round to make sure no one else was within earshot, said respectfully but firmly: "Never lose sight of one thing, sir: it's what happens at the trial on board the Salvador del Mundo that matters.
"The Press can say what it likes, mobs can throw half-bricks through the windows of the Admiralty (and I reckon they will, once they hear about it: you're a hero to them) and Parliament can debate it all when it sits again - too late to do us any good: just our luck that this happens during the recess - but once the court gives its verdict, it's all over.
"Once that verdict is pronounced, then it becomes a matter of pride: the court will never admit it made a mistake, nor will the Admiralty, nor will the government. The law officers of the Crown can turn themselves into murderers - judicial o' course - without a moment's thought. Look at the Earl of Hardwicke in the Byng affair. He was Lord Chancellor and planned the murder."
"All three were newly created titles," Ramage said jokingly. "His Grace the Duke's title dates from Byng's trial, 1756, and the Hardwicke earldom came a couple of years earlier. I can't remember when Anson had his barony - probably owed it to his wife's father, after he sailed round the world."
"Well, my point is that once there's a verdict," Southwick said doggedly, "no one in authority is ever going to change his mind. Poor Admiral Byng was a good example. The court itself later said they never intended that he should be executed, but just the same he was led out and shot on the quarterdeck of the Monarch."
"I shall insist on the Calypso," Ramage said lightly, "even though you'll have to get the quarterdeck holystoned afterwards."
"Don't even joke about it, sir. Might I ask what that last letter was about?"
"Just a brief note from the deputy judge advocate telling me that several of the people I wanted to call as witnesses are no longer here and so won't be available for the trial."
Southwick's bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Who are they?"
"A couple of the masters of merchant ships. They're not vital. The Yorkes have been notified - that other boat from the shore brought a note from them saying they'd each received a letter from the deputy judge advocate 'desiring' them to attend to give evidence. I listed them by their surname and initials, so the deputy judge advocate assumed they were both men."
"If he's like most deputy judge advocates I've ever seen," Southwick said sourly, "he could look at Miss Yorke and still not know the difference! But did the idea of giving evidence for you make her feel nervous, sir?"
Ramage shook his head, laughing at the memory. "On the contrary. From what she said and the look in her eye, I almost felt sorry for Admiral Goddard."
"They'll find a way, sir," Southwick said crossly. "They'll find a way to prevent the Yorkes giving evidence, you'll see. The admiral will remember Mr Yorke from that business in Port Royal."
"I know, but they want to help and I'm not going to disappoint them, so I put them on my list. They'll be able to see the trial, anyway."
"No they won't, sir," Southwick said. "They'll see the court assembling and the swearing in, but after that, as listed witnesses, they'll have to withdraw. You can't stay and listen to what's going on if you're going to give evidence later!"
Southwick pointed to another boat heading for the Calypso and about to be challenged by one of the Marine sentries. "Anyone would think we're the only ship in the Sound!"
Ramage looked at the boat through his telescope. "As far as Rear-Admiral Goddard is concerned, I expect we are! Another lieutenant - in his best uniform, too, complete with tarpaulin to keep off the spray. As the fishermen say: 'I think we have a live one here!' "
As the boat came alongside, Southwick growled that he would go down and meet it to keep Aitken company, commenting: "It's one of those lieutenants that never go to sea: they dance attendance on the port admiral's wife and her dog, and any daughters and nieces ..."
The lieutenant was tall and willowy: he stood up in the boat swaying like a slender plant in a gentle breeze. He had that foppish air that Ramage knew always infuriated Southwick and aroused the contempt of Aitken.
Five minutes later, Aitken brought the lieutenant up to the quarterdeck, saluted Ramage and said, making no attempt to disguise his voice: "This individual claims to be Lieutenant Hill, or Hillock, and he says he has business with you, sir."
The lieutenant gave a languid salute and asked: "Captain Ramage?"
Aitken immediately said, his Scots accent very pronounced, always a sign that he was losing his temper: "You insert the word 'sir' between the name and the question mark."
The young man nodded graciously. "I do beg your pardon. You are Captain Ramage, sir?" When Ramage nodded, he held out the letter he had been carrying. "It is my duty to deliver this."
Ramage took it and thanked the man, who continued standing there. "You may go," Ramage said.
"Oh, I shall: but you come with me." The lieutenant was smirking and Aitken, without a moment's hesitation, walked to the quarterdeck rail, looked down at the Marine sentry and shouted: "Pass the word for Mr Rennick."
He continued waiting at the rail, obviously not intending to move until the Marine lieutenant arrived.
"I am Lieutenant Hill, sir," the lieutenant said nervously.
"Are you, by Jove," Ramage said. "Luck of the draw, I suppose."
"Er, who is your first lieutenant summoning, sir?"
Ramage thought, anyone else would have used the word "calling" but this fellow would also use "prior to" instead of "before" and "decimate" when he meant almost destroyed, quite unaware that it meant one in ten, from the Latin decimus, a tenth.
"He's calling for the Marine lieutenant. He may be going to arrest you for insolence, but I think he suspects you're an impostor."
"An impostor? Why, sir, I have just received my orders direct from Rear-Admiral Goddard and the deputy judge advocate. I, sir, am the provost marshal."
" 'Upon the occasion'," Ramage said.
"I beg your pardon, sir?" Hill said uncertainly.
"Someone has been rash enough to appoint you 'Provost Marshal upon the occasion'. I was just correcting your temporary title."
"Oh, yes indeed, and thank you, sir."
"Not at all," Ramage said politely, seeing out of the corner of his eye that Rennick and two Marines had arrived on the quarterdeck and Aitken was clearly bringing him up to date. Hill then noticed them and said even more nervously: "I do wish you would read the letter, sir: it explains everything."
"I know what it says," Ramage said. "My first lieutenant and I are trying to save you and your admiral some embarrassment."
"Me, sir? And Admiral Goddard?" Hill hitched the scabbard of his sword round and stood stiffly. "My orders are to take you into custody and deliver you to the court on the appropriate day at the appropriate time."
"Yes, indeed," Ramage said agreeably, "but if either you or any senior officer -" Ramage was careful not to identify Goddard, "- think that you will take me from my own ship, which I still lawfully command, and shut me up in a cell or cabin, then you had better bring a file of Marines. I shall present myself (in your company, of course) on board the Salvador del Mundo in good time for the trial on Monday. So unless you want to find yourself locked up on board this ship, guarded by Marines, under suspicion of being an impostor as neither my officers nor myself can credit that you really hold the King's commission, I suggest you leave the ship."
Hill took one more look at Ramages deep-set eyes, which seemed to be boring into him, saw that Aitken, the Marine lieutenant and the two Marines were now marching towards him, gave a hasty salute and bolted for the quarterdeck ladder, having the presence of mind to grab his sword scabbard so that it should not trip him up.
As Aitken reached him, Ramage smiled. "Your bird has flown, but you timed it well. Mind you, we might have a file of Marines coming on board in an hour, but..."
"I have my doubts, sir: I think we've made the point!"
Promptly at seven o'clock on Monday morning Ramage followed Aitken, Wagstaffe, Bowen and Southwick down into the cutter. A cloudless sky and a light wind from the northeast left the Sound calm and the row to the great Salvador del Mundo, anchored half a mile away, would have been a pleasant outing, but for its purpose.
Jackson climbed from thwart to thwart, draping a piece of tarpaulin over the officers. The routine letter from Goddard to the officers who would form the court and those due to give evidence ended with the sentence, "and it is expected you will attend in your uniform frocks." This set stewards busy pressing their masters' frock coats and white breeches. Aitken, Wagstaffe and Southwick found their best stockings had been the dining room for moths so they were now wearing spare pairs belonging to Ramage. All four men had their swords, but Ramage alone had been careful to make sure that the two clips on the scabbard worked freely.
The boys who looked after the officers, and Ramage's steward Silkin, had been busy shining shoes and sword scabbards, and all of them had taken care in tying their stocks.
The result was interesting, Ramage thought, and as they sat in the sternsheets, being draped with Jackson's tarpaulins, Southwick looked (if one ignored the uniform) like a very prosperous farmer setting off on Lady Day to settle up some accounts; Aitken, from his serious expression and rather long face, could be a clever young surgeon not long ago qualified at Edinburgh. Wagstaffe looked just like a naval officer. Bowen, dressed in a pearl-grey coat with matching breeches, had the vaguely debauched air of a portly landowner come up to town either for a few days' gaming or to spend a night or two with his mistress.
Jackson looked at them all carefully as he placed the tarpaulins, watching for missing buttons, creased stocks, grease spots that might have been missed, and his memory went back several years, as though slipping back the pages of a book. He realized with a shock that all four men had aged: for years he had seen them every day and, he supposed, never really saw them, instead seeing only what he expected to see. But Mr Ramage was no longer the deceptive-looking young lieutenant: of course he was still taller than he looked, his shoulders were still wider than one expected. Those brown eyes were still deep-sunk under eyebrows that if anything were bushier. Hair still black and even with his hat on there was no sign of grey hair, except for that tiny circle of white that grew where the pistol ball caught him down in Curaçao. High cheekbones, slightly curved nose, face still tanned from the Tropics, a small web of wrinkles at the outer corners of the eyes caused by having them half closed against the bright sun. Yes, he had matured rather than aged; now he looked what he was, the heir to one of the oldest earldoms in the kingdom, and one of the most famous frigate captains in the Navy. But all that was not helping him now. He was about to be court-martialled, Jackson knew without a moment's doubt, because the vendetta against his father, Admiral the Earl of Blazey, was still being waged by old men with long memories and younger men like Rear-Admiral Goddard who were trying to advance themselves by pandering to them. How long would all this go on? Jackson was far from sure. When the old Admiral retired, the vendetta had already passed on to people like Rear-Admiral Goddard, so the old grudge against the father was already born again and carried on as a vendetta against Mr Ramage, who had been a child when it all started.
Jackson pictured Rear-Admiral Goddard and for a moment felt sorry for him: the American knew instinctively that Goddard was one of the men who could only win by cheating. Jackson had long ago learned that certain men were so devious that it would never occur to them that it was possible (or indeed desirable) to be straightforward. They were the men who, asked the time of day, consulted their watches and gave a wrong answer in case the correct one gave the other person some advantage.
And Mr Aitken. Like whisky, he had matured and although he looked more dour each month, he had in fact long ago relaxed as he gained confidence. Mr Southwick - he had aged but only because his hair was whiter. But Mr Bowen had not changed much. Yes, he looked a lot better than the day he joined the Triton brig (that showed how long ago it was) a drunken sot who within weeks did not drink a drop, except water. What a time and a cure that had been! Dragons all over the deckhead, screams that made the men's blood run cold. But the cure, devised by Mr Ramage and Mr Southwick, had worked and to look at Mr Bowen now, no one could guess that drink had ever been a problem. And Jackson doubted if the Navy had a better or more popular surgeon.
Jackson scrambled back aft and took the tiller. At least the officers would now arrive on board the Salvador del Mundo with their uniforms unmarked by splashes of water thrown up when one of the men caught a crab. No matter what, someone always caught a crab ...
Ramage looked across at the Salvador del Mundo as Jackson gave the orders to start the cutter spurting through the water. "Saviour of the World" - well, until she was captured by Sir John Jervis (as he then was: now an earl with his title taken from his victory) at the battle on Valentine's day off Cape St Vincent in 1797. Then she flew the flag of Spain, carried 112 guns, and was one of the largest ships in the world. Not as big as the Commerce de Marseille, of course, taken by Lord Hood at Toulon.
For a few moments Ramage recalled his own role in that St Valentine's day battle when he had lost the Kathleen cutter but had prevented the Spanish fleet escaping. Southwick, Jackson, Stafford, Rossi - they were all there and saw the great Salvador captured; they had all escaped death from drowning by a miracle as the little Kathleen had been rolled over. What were they thinking now?
Ramage's thoughts went on to the Commerce. It was ironic that the biggest ship in the Royal Navy should have been captured from the French and was now usually commanded by a lowly lieutenant because she was being used as a prison ship.
Ramage recalled that after being captured she was first taken to Portsmouth, where the dockyard authorities found that there was not a dock in Portsmouth big enough to take her, so she had to be sailed round to Plymouth. A pity such a great ship could not be sent to seaagainst her former owners: it was a sad thing that she would end her days in the Hamoaze, where she was now anchored and still home to French seamen, although as a prison.
Idle thoughts but they helped keep his mind occupied. His life seemed to be hedged round with signs saying "Do Not". But his brain ignored the signs with the wilfulness of a confirmed trespasser - or poacher, rather. Do not think about Sarah. Yes, that was all very well, but what if he was thinking about her thinking about him? Was she alive to think about him? What had happened to the Murex? Why had no news come through from France? Normally the French agent for prisoners, stationed in London, received the names so that negotiations for exchanges could be started, but in the case of the Murex there had been nothing. Perhaps the system working before the Treaty of Amiens was taking some time to get going again ... it was a possibility; no more than that.
Now the damned trial. To be fair (not that he wanted to be) this was not Goddard's fault or responsibility: sheer chance had placed him as the rear-admiral at Plymouth at the time Shirley had seen fit to go off his head and accuse the captain of the Calypso. Damn, damn, damn the man: Ramage felt murderous towards Shirley because of the effect the coming trial could have on the future of Aitken and the other lieutenants. The master was old enough to retire if the case went against him, and probably would, and Bowen could (and probably would) go back to private practice, but the rest of them, even if they did not give evidence, Martin, Kenton and young Orsini, would for ever be known as having been associated with the "Calypso Affair" (although perhaps it would become known as the "Jason Affair"). The Byng affair had affected (disastrously) the behaviour of senior officers in battle for fifty years, because of that "did keep back" phrase in the Articles of War. Would the Ramage verdict (as it was bound to become known) merely emphasize that unfit captains could not be replaced at sea except on cast-iron medical grounds? In fact none of them could even remember such a case: if only they could, they would have a precedent to cite at the coming trial.
They - which meant he, Aitken, Wagstaffe and Southwick - had spent almost a whole afternoon discussing the merits of hiring a counsel. It was allowed, but was it wise? The court would comprise no more than thirteen and no fewer than five of the senior officers available in the port, and they would be ordinary naval officers, captains and perhaps flag officers, with no legal training. How would they view an accused officer who was represented by a lawyer? Would they consider that the lawyer was an indication that he had something to hide? Would they be prejudiced against the lawyer who would (or should) know the law - and who might, in fact, trip them or the deputy judge advocate on points of the law?
Aitken, who had not yet been involved in a court-martial either as a witness or defendant (or, for that matter, prosecutor, even of a refractory seaman), had wanted him to get a lawyer, but Southwick had argued against, saying he was sure it would antagonize the court. Ramage had listened to all their arguments, added several of his own which had provoked more discussion, and then pointed out that even if they had decided to engage a counsel there was no time to find one in London and get him down here to Plymouth.
And already the cutter was going alongside the San Joseph, another of Lord St Vincent's prizes from the same battle as the Salvador del Mundo, to collect Lieutenant Hill, the "provost marshal upon the occasion". The day after the fellow had fled from the Calypso without his prisoner under arrest, a letter had arrived for Ramage from the commander-in-chief, written as though Hill had never been on board the Calypso and Aitken had never called for Rennick. It said that Lieutenant Hill of the San Joseph had been appointed provost marshal "upon the occasion" and would be responsible for taking Captain Ramage into custody and delivering him "in due time" for his trial, but in view of Captain Ramage's duties as the commanding officer of His Majesty's ship the Calypso, it had been thought fit that Captain Ramage should remain a prisoner at large on board the Calypso but should surrender himself to the provost marshal at least an hour before the time appointed for the trial.
Even as the cutter came alongside the San Joseph, Ramage could guess that petty minds were at work, and that none of them was going to miss an opportunity to try to humiliate Captain Ramage. The trouble with petty minds, Ramage had long ago decided, was that they contained only petty thoughts.
As the cutter came alongside and painter and sternfast were secured, a voice bellowed down from on deck: "Captain Ramage come on board."
Ramage leaned over and after a slight wink said to Southwick: "Just react to whatever I say; we'll have some sport with these fellows. Now," he said, raising his voice, "I've just remembered that I've left some documents on board the Calypso that I need for the trial."
Southwick slapped his knee. "Well, I'm blessed, sir: we'll have to go back and fetch them."
"We shall indeed, and we'll have to hurry or we'll be late."
By now Hill had appeared at an open gunport and he said, with as much sternness as he dare muster: "Captain Ramage - you're being hailed from on deck."
"Am I? Well, whatever they want, it must wait: I'm under an arrest and the provost marshal has to deliver me -" he stopped and dug into his pocket for his watch. He flipped open the front, then closed it down again and put it back in his pocket. "- to the court on board the Salvador del Mundo in half an hour. I've forgotten some papers so I have to return to the Calypso. Boarding the San Joseph will only waste time and I've no wish to get the provost marshal into trouble."
"But you can't go back to the Calypso" Hill yelped, "that -"
"Then you'll have to explain to the court why you prevented Captain Ramage making any interrogatories or presenting his defence, apart from explaining that you kept the court waiting because you insisted on Captain Ramage being taken on board the San Joseph."
"Ordering you on board is not my idea, sir," Hill protested. "I had -"
"Well, you'd better run along and explain your problems to whoever had the idea and owns the voice up there on the maindeck. I'd like to know the names and ranks, too, so that I can report them to the president of the court."
Hill vanished and, in what seemed only a few seconds, was scrambling down into the boat. "If you are ready, sir," he said nervously, "we can go back to the Calypso."
Ramage turned and nodded to Jackson. "Cast off and carry on."
Once the cutter was clear of the San Joseph, Jackson asked conversationally, "The Salvador, sir?"
Ramage nodded and ignored Lieutenant Hill's protest about going to the Calypso.
"Reminds you of old times, don't it, sir?" Jackson said. "The Salvador del Mundo over there, the San Joseph over here -" he pointed to the west. "Just needs the San Nicolas and San Ysidro and it'd be like the day we lost the Kathleen."
"Sir," Hill said, not realizing Ramage was unclipping his sword because his hands were hidden beneath the tarpaulin.
"Don't interrupt my thoughts," Ramage said severely. "What you don't know is precisely how the Salvador del Mundo and the San Joseph and the San Ysidro and San Nicolas were captured, but almost every other man in this boat can tell you exactly, because they were there."
"Indeed, sir," Hill said disdainfully, "how interesting."
"Yes, interesting because -" A sudden thought struck Ramage. "Tell me, lieutenant, have you ever had a shot fired at you by the enemy - cannon, musket or pistol?"
"Well, not exactly, sir."
"Have you ever been in action?"
"Well, no, sir."
"Then don't ever sneer at those that have," Ramage said sourly, realizing he was hardly being fair to the wretched lieutenant. "You can see the Salvador and San Joseph. The two ships not here are the San Ysidro and San Nicolas. They were leading the enemy fleet, and both ships were captured by Commodore (as he then was) Nelson."
"I know that, sir," Hill said petulantly.
"But do you know how the commodore caught up with the two Dons who were trying to escape?"
"Well, no sir, I don't know all the details of the battle."
"You ought to ask the seaman holding the tiller of this cutter."
"Sir, I can hardly -"
"Or any of the first six men at the oars."
"Oh, sir -"
"Or this gentleman sitting here," Ramage said relentlessly, indicating Southwick.
Southwick sniffed and said loudly: "You might even ask Mr Ramage, because if it hadn't been for him none of the ships would have been taken and Sir John Jervis would never have got his earldom!"
By now Hill's embarrassment and annoyance had gone: instead his curiosity was aroused. He was cautious enough to ask Southwick, rather than risk an encounter with Ramage. "Tell me, then, what happened?"
"Mr Ramage was a lieutenant then, with about as much seniority as you've got and from the looks of it a lot younger, and he commanded the Kathleen cutter, and to stop the four Dons escaping -"
"He ran his cutter across the bows of the leading one!" Hill interrupted. "I remember now! I'd forgotten the name of that lieutenant," he said apologetically to Ramage. "And I've just remembered a Gazette I read: in the West Indies you captured that frigate you command: I forget her French name but she was renamed Calypso."
Ramage pulled his sword and scabbard out from beneath the tarpaulin. "You'd better take this."
The significance of an officer about to be tried handing over his sword had never been cleared up. Something to do with surrendering a badge of office, perhaps. Anyway, the sword was put on the table during the trial, and if after the court considered its verdict the accused came back into the courtroom and found the point of the sword towards him, he knew he was guilty.
Ramage could see that Hill was a very puzzled young man. He was glancing covertly at Ramage, Southwick and Jackson and - probably much to his surprise - finding that none of them had tails like the pictures of Satan. Ramage realized that the wretched youngster was finding it impossible to reconcile what he had been hearing about Captain Ramage for the past few days with what he had just learned in the last few minutes.
"Sir," Hill whispered, "this Captain Shirley says you are mad. It's in the charge and he talks about it to anyone who will listen -"
"Mr Hill, you are the 'provost marshal upon the occasion' and I am under arrest in your custody," Ramage said in a low voice. "Any discussion of the case is most improper - you must realize that."
Hill nodded, although it was obvious that his thoughts were far away. "Is there any chance after the trial," he asked diffidently, "that you'll have a vacancy for a lieutenant in the Calypso, sir?"
Ramage smiled to make sure that Hill realized his proffered olive branch had been accepted. "Is there any chance after the trial that I'll still command the Calypso?"
Ramage was startled when Southwick and the other two began folding up their pieces of tarpaulin and glanced up to see that the great hull of the Salvador del Mundo was alongside them like a cliff face. Jackson was bringing the cutter alongside an elaborate entryport at which a sentry with a musket stood on guard. As two seamen hooked on with boathooks and held the boat alongside, Ramage climbed on board but before he had time to glance around him a voice in the gloom said sharply: "All boats must be secured at the boat boom." By the time the man had finished the sentence Ramage could just distinguish him: a lieutenant perfectly dressed and wearing a sword. At that moment Ramage felt a flush of temper surge through him, as though someone had opened a furnace door. Everyone, it seemed, was setting out to bait Captain Ramage, but since Captain Ramage had spent most of the last ten years serving at sea in the Mediterranean or West Indies, none of these Channel Fleet people could know him, so their malice was being led or inspired by someone else.
"Oh, I beg your pardon," Ramage said politely, turning round and ushering Hill back into the boat and following him. To Jackson, just waiting for the last of the officers to board the Salvador del Mundo before moving out to secure the cutter from the great boom which stuck out from the ship's side and from which boats were streamed, like horses tied to a rail outside an inn while their owners were inside having a pint of ale, Ramage said: "Carry on, Jackson, get a painter made up on the boom."
Jackson had served with Ramage too long to hesitate: seeing his captain coming back into the cutter was enough to warn him that something unusual was happening, and he snapped an order which had the seamen pushing off the cutter.
The gap between the cutter and the ship had grown to six feet when a lieutenant appeared at the entryport shouting: "Hey you! You have to come on board!"
"Ask him to whom he's shouting," Ramage said to Hill.
Hill, now a different man and realizing that even if he was under arrest, Ramage was still a post-captain - and a distinguished one - knew that lieutenants bellowing like that were asking for trouble.
But the lieutenant was a friend of Hill's, and Hill knew the reason for the behaviour, and thinking quickly he stood up and shouted back angrily: "Don't yell at me like that. There's a trial due to start in less than two hours' time. Do you expect us to swing under the boatboom like bumboatmen?"
The Salvador's lieutenant stood, jaw dropped. "Come on, man!" Hill snapped. "You'll have a dozen captains alongside you within the hour - as long as you remember to hoist the court-martial flag."
"Very well then, bring your prisoner on board. But the cutter can return to its own ship."
"Most of the men on board, including those at the oars, are witnesses,'' Ramage murmured."If this sort of thing goes on, I shall have a long list of protests to make to the president of the court, with a copy sent to the commander-in-chief."
"And I wouldn't blame you, sir. Could you ask your coxswain to put us alongside again, sir? This fellow is a fool."
This time Hill was the first out of the boat, holding the scabbard of his own sword with his left hand, and with Ramage's sword tucked firmly under his left arm.
"The provost marshal upon the occasion and his prisoner, Captain Ramage," he said briskly. "Bring your men to attention!"
The Marine had already recognized Ramage and stamped to attention. The lieutenant was now examining a list with great concentration, but by now Hill had learned that Captain Ramage was usually several steps ahead of such games and beckoned Ramage to accompany him, making sure the witnesses followed.
"There's a cabin set aside for you, sir," Hill explained, "and another for the witnesses."
"I'd sooner walk round up on deck," Ramage said. "It's a glorious day and this ship interests me."
"Of course it does, sir!" Hill said. "This is the first ... ?"
"Yes," Ramage said and because Hill's question was unintentionally ambiguous left it at that.
When one saw the ship from a frigate, the name Salvador del Mundo, Saviour of the World, seemed - well, more than a little pretentious. But now, standing on the maindeck, one could see that the Spanish builders and the Spanish navy had built a ship of which they could be proud. She seemed more like a great cathedral of wood which should be standing four-square on the ground. Here in the Sound on a calm day it was hard to believe she could ever be fighting for her life in an Atlantic storm, barely able to carry a stitch of canvas and with great seas sweeping over the bow and thundering their way aft, and the planking working so that water spurted through the seams and dozens of seamen cranked the bilgepumps. Nor, standing here and knowing that the other ship must be just as impressive, did the name Santisima Trinidada, the Holy Trinity, seem so pretentious (or, to a Protestant ear, so blasphemous).
Curious how different countries have different styles in naming their ships. The British seemed to name ships almost at random; sometimes they used that of an old ship which had been scrapped, but if the ship was a prize they often kept the original foreign name, the rule apparently being only that seamen should be able to pronounce it.
Ramage could think of very few British ships in service which had been named by the Admiralty after a man or woman, apart from members of the Royal Family. Merchant ships and privateers were often named after their owners (or their wives). Certainly no names had any religious significance, except for prizes like the Salvador del Mundo. Who but the British, he thought, would have the 110-ton Ville de Paris as the flagship of the admiral commanding the Channel Squadron? She was not even a prize, but had been built recently in a British yard! At Chatham, in fact. Admittedly that Ville de Paris, which was almost as big as the Salvador, was named after a predecessor captured from the French, but Ramage could not imagine a French fleet sailing from Brest with the admiral's flag flying in a French-built ship called the London. Still, apart from a few big ships associated with places, the French seemed to have just as haphazard a way of naming ships as the British. The arrival of Bonaparte had made little difference, except that since the Revolution there was now a Ça Ira. The only danger of such a name was that the ship might sink in a storm, or be captured by the enemy. . . if the Ça Ira (a 112-gun ship, if he remembered rightly) was captured by the British, would Their Lordships keep the name? It would be a huge joke, although the King was said not to have a very strong sense of humour.
He suddenly realized that Hill had been deliberately walking towards the fo'c'sle, as though to lead him forward, and the familiar squawking of rope rendering through blocks, and then the flopping of cloth in the wind, made him glance up.
A hoist of three flags were now flying - the uppermost was a white flag with a blue diagonal cross on it - number two. The second, triangular and divided white and red, was the substitute, indicating that the upper flag was being repeated, so the signal so far was two two. The lower flag comprised three vertical stripes, blue, white, blue, and was number three. So the whole signal was number 223, and Ramage did not have to look it up in the signal book: The flag officers, captains and commanders, and all other persons summoned to attend a court martial, are to assemble on board the ship whose signal is shown after this has been answered.
An italic note below the signal in the book said: N.B. The ship in which the court martial is to be held, is immediately to hoist a union jack at the mizen peak.
Ramage looked aft and saw the Union Flag being hoisted. Tiresome, he thought, that an official volume like the Signal Book for the Ships of War should make such an elementary mistake as calling the Union Flag a "jack" when it most certainly was not being used as a jack, which was a flag flown on a staff at the bow.
"The Union at the mizen peak" - seamen's jargon for a court-martial, and as well known as being "stabbed with a Bridport dagger", which was another way of saying being hanged, and a tribute to the fine hemp rope made at the town of Bridport.
"Sorry, sir," Hill said apologetically, "I was hoping you would not see or hear any of that."
Ramage grinned amiably. "I wouldn't have missed it for anything," he said. "Just think, a dozen post-captains are now blessing or cursing me because for today, and perhaps several more days, they're going to have to attend my trial, and either be kept away from very important work or escape something very boring. It's not every day that a very junior post-captain gets court-martialled, you know."
"I suppose not, sir," Hill said cautiously, uncertain whether Ramage was serious or not. This fellow, he decided, had the damnedest sense of humour and the most uncertain temper of anyone he had ever met. Captain Ramage could say something with an absolutely straight face and have a hundred men jumping to attention while another hundred, who knew him better, would be roaring with laughter. It was all very odd, though it kept you on your toes - in case you got your foot stamped on! He giggled at his own joke and Ramage glanced round.
"Sorry, sir," Hill said apologetically, "I was just thinking of something."
"You must have a thin time of it if you giggle every time you think," Ramage said with a straight face. "That's the first time I've heard you giggle."
At that moment Hill decided he would pull every string within his reach to serve in the Calypso. Providing, of course, there was an acquittal verdict . . .