Ramage's Devil r-13

by Dudley Pope

  'I am the captain,' Ramage said quietly. 'Before you -'

  'Master-at-arms!' roared the lieutenant, 'get this man out of my way!'

  '- before you make a fool of yourself, lieutenant,' Ramage repeated without changing the tone of his voice, 'I suggest you listen because I shan't tell you twice.'

  The lieutenant, tall and plump but with a weak mouth and chin hinting at self-indulgence, paused a moment and for the first time looked at Ramage's face. The deep-set eyes, the slightly hooked nose, the thick eyebrows ...

  'Who the hell are you?'he demanded.

  Ramage realized that this must be the frigate's first lieutenant, and the captain would be down in his cabin.

  'Most of the ship's company of that brig mutinied last week and ran her into Brest. I and a few others recaptured her and sailed her out last night. Now, either fetch your captain or take me to him.'

  'And who the devil do you think you are, to give me orders.'

  'My name is Ramage.'

  'Well, you can dam' well - Ramage? Lord Ramage?'

  The man in fisherman's clothes just nodded his head.

  'Oh my God, sir, I had no way -'

  'I know that. Your captain ... ?'

  'Of course, sir, at once.'

  'Who is he?'

  'Captain Wells, sir. Captain John Wells.'

  The man then ran the few steps to the companionway, watched open-mouthed by the Blanche's master and a lieutenant of Marines, who stood too far away to hear the conversation but had seen their first lieutenant move like a recoiling gun.

  Wells ... John Wells. No, that name was not in the last list of post-captains that Ramage had seen, so he must have been made post after Ramage and therefore was junior to him. That was one hurdle cleared; there was nothing like a little seniority ... And it probably meant that he was senior to the other frigate captain, too. It should not be too difficult to get a dozen men to help sail the Murex.

  'If you'll come this way, sir...'

  The lieutenant combined nervousness, doubt, uncertainty and embarrassment into an interesting melange which manifested itself in him taking off his hat, turning it round completely, and putting it on again.

  'You did say "Lord Ramage", didn't you, sir?'

  'You said "Lord": I merely said "Ramage". I don't use my title in the Service.'

  'No, quite, sir: I remember in the Gazette... It is simply that we did not expect...'

  Ramage turned aft towards the companionway, feeling smug at his self-control: the temptation of pointing at the unmanned guns and closed ports had been almost irresistible.

  Captain Wells had been given post rank late in life: Ramage guessed he was well past fifty, and like his first lieutenant he was plump, and what would have otherwise been a pleasant face with sandy eyebrows was spoiled by eyes too close together.

  Now he stood at the bottom of the companionway staring up at the apparent fisherman coming down the steps with all the assurance of a Gascon. Not, Ramage thought to himself, that Captain Wells would know the meaning of 'Gasconade' or its derivation. Nor did Wells know how he was going to get any proof of the extraordinary story that the first lieutenant had just gabbled out.

  Wells gave himself time by saying: 'Won't you come in?'

  Ramage remembered that his own cabin, couch and sleeping place in the Calypso frigate were larger: the French allowed their captains more room.

  Wells gestured towards the single armchair and while Ramage sat down, seated himself at the desk and began taking the cap from an ink bottle.

  'Ah ... well now, perhaps you had better report to me in your own words and if you'll speak slowly, I'll write -'

  'No reports, written or otherwise, to anyone except the commander-in-chief,' Ramage said flatly. 'My name is Ramage, and I do not have my commission but you can confirm the date from your copy of Steel's List, which I see you have on your desk. I was in France on my honeymoon - you have no doubt seen my wife on the Murex' s quarterdeck - when the war started again. We escaped arrest, saw the Murex being brought in with a French escort and discovered that most of her ship's company had mutinied. The officers and a dozen or so loyal seamen were left on board and my wife and I' - Ramage decided Gilbert and the others would forgive the exaggeration - 'with the help of four Frenchmen overpowered the guards, freed our men, and sailed the ship out of Brest. Then you came along.'

  'But look here, I've no proof -'

  'You don't need any, Wells,' Ramage snapped. 'Send a dozen of your men over to help those poor souls sail the Murex, and make a signal to the admiral. You'll have fun with the Signal Book. I don't recall anything which quite covers this situation.'

  'But Ramage, I can't -'

  'Tell the admiral why you can't, Wells, but I'll tell you just one more thing, after which I want a dozen topmen sending down to my cutter and I'll be off to join the fleet. Time, Wells, hours and minutes rather than days: I am desperate to save time.' With that Ramage was out through the door and halfway up the companion way before Wells had time to draw a breath.

  He was calling to the first lieutenant to have his boat ready when Wells came up the companionway, took one more look (a despairing look, it seemed to Ramage) and seeing his first lieutenant busy, called to the master to send a dozen topmen down into the boat without waiting for them to collect their gear.

  'You will let me have them back?' he called after Ramage, as anxious as any captain to keep prime seamen.

  'Yes - as soon as we're hove-to near the flagship. You can escort us down there!'

  CHAPTER NINE

  Reginald Edward Clinton, knight, vice-admiral of the blue, was a bachelor and, Ramage decided at first sight, every child's idea of what Father Christmas should look like. He was plump and round-faced, the red complexion contrasting with a pair of startlingly blue eyes, which rarely moved. The admiral had a habit of swivelling his whole head when he wanted to shift his gaze. The effect, Ramage decided, was like aiming a gun.

  But Admiral Clinton was decisive. He listened to Ramage's story without interruption and then asked a series of questions, starting with those referring to the beginning of Ramage's visit to France and ending with a request for the numbers and rates of the French ships anchored in Brest. After writing down the figures and the state of readiness of each of them, he put the cap back on the inkwell, wiped the tip of his quill pen with a piece of cloth and said casually: 'You captured and then commanded the Calypso, didn't you?'

  'Yes, sir. I still do - or did. She was being paid off and laid up at Chatham when I went on leave.'

  'Hmm. Well, she wasn't actually paid off - the war was started again. In fact I have her with me. Commanded by a fellow called Bullivant.'

  'Edward Bullivant, sir, son of the Navy Board contractor?'

  'The same one,' the admiral said, his voice flat. 'What sort of officers did you have?'

  'Not one I would change - indeed, sir, not one I would ever want to exchange.'

  'Master?'

  'A man called Southwick. He'd been with me from the time I was given my first command.'

  'And the surgeon?' Clinton asked casually.

  'A brilliant man. Used to have a practice in Wimpole Street.'

  'Oh? Then why is he now simply a surgeon in a frigate?'

  'Drink, sir. Lost all his patients. Came to sea.'

  'That explains it all,' Clinton said, obviously relieved.

  Ramage quickly decided to risk a snub. 'May I ask what it explains, sir?'

  'Well, had a dam' strange signal from her at daybreak. Number 215 over her own pendant.'

  Ramage thought for several moments. There were more than four hundred numbered signals in the book and 215 was not one he had ever seen hoisted or heard anyone refer to.

  Clinton said: 'Number 215 means: The physician of the Fleet is to come to the Admiral. But hoisted over the Calypso's pendant numbers I assume she is trying to reverse it - asking for the physician of the fleet to go to the Calypso.'

  Physician. Ramage realized the si
gnificance of the word. Most frigates and all ships of the line had surgeons, but physicians were different. There were between two and three hundred surgeons in the Navy but only three physicians - Dr Harness (who had given his name to a special sort of cask), Dr Trotter (who was a friend of Lord St Vincent) and Dr Travis. One of them would be on board this flagship.

  'Why would she be wanting the physician?'Clinton asked, although it was obvious the question was rhetorical.

  'The Signal Book, sir,' Ramage said. 'I don't think there is any signal for requesting medical assistance.'

  'But why should she need it? Perhaps the surgeon has drunk himself stupid.'

  Ramage realized that he had not completed his reference to Bowen. 'I think not, sir: his first ship was the Triton brig, which I commanded, and he stopped drinking.'

  Clinton smiled benevolently: he was making allowances for the pride of a young captain.

  'Not Bowen, sir- that's the surgeon. He was cured.'

  'Who achieved that miracle?' Clinton demanded.

  'Well, sir, the master and I saw him through the worst of it. As I said, he's a very intelligent man. A wonderful chess player.'

  'Hmm -1 hope he isn't trying to make pawns of us. She has the same officers and ship's company; only Bullivant is new. What do you think is going on?'

  Had Bowen started drinking again? Or been injured himself? In that case, Bullivant would have asked one of the other frigates to send over her surgeon.

  'Where is the Calypso, sir? I did not see her.'

  'Some distance up to the northwest, in company.with the Blackthorne frigate.'

  'So she would be close enough to ask the Blackthorne to send over her surgeon?'

  'Yes. The Blackthorne is nearer to us and relayed this strange signal. Who the devil would have thought up 215 over a pendant - it's clever, if they really need the physician of the fleet.'

  'Or the physician's authority,' Ramage said and then realized that he had inadvertently spoken aloud what was only a random thought.

  'What's that you say?' the admiral demanded. 'Authority? Medicine is what they want, I'd have thought.'

  In for a penny, in for a pound, Ramage thought, and time was passing and he still had to persuade the admiral about L'Espoir. 'I was trying to see it from the Calypso's point of view, sir. Sickness, fractures - all these can be dealt with by a surgeon. I was trying to see what the physician of the fleet had that a surgeon would not have, and medically - with respect - there'd be nothing of consequence. But the physician of the fleet would have authority. He would be reporting direct to you, and he could act on your authority...'

  'But what the devil does the Calypso want to bother me about?' Clinton growled. 'I don't care if the second lieutenant has just ruptured himself: that's why she has a surgeon. Can't be scurvy or anything like that - we left Plymouth only a couple of days ago.'

  Southwick, Aitken, Bowen, young Paolo, Jackson, Stafford - Ramage felt a great nostalgia. The Admiralty (having no choice) had appointed a new captain to the Calypso, but she would always be his ship: he had captured her from the French, refitted her in the West Indies, chosen her new name, taken her into action ... He knew every man on board and had promoted most of the officers. Every seaman had been in action with him several times and people like Jackson, Stafford and Rossi had saved his life - and he theirs, for that matter.

  'Sir, whatever it is, I'm sure it's serious and unusual. I know Bullivant only by report, but I do know my officers. The first lieutenant, Aitken, thought of the signal: I'm sure of that. He's a very responsible young officer.' He remembered Clinton's slight accent and added: '- and comes from an old Scots family with naval connections.'

  Clinton scratched his head, doubtful about something, although Ramage could not guess what. 'Let me think about it. Now, are we finished with this Murex mutiny business? I want a list of names of the mutineers, of course, and all the loyal seamen, and the warrant and commission officers, who can give evidence against them. The brig's first lieutenant can deal with that. The Navy Board will have the last Muster Book, so they can print up some posters naming these mutinous rascals. They'll have to serve in French and neutral ships, or starve, you'll see, and we'll catch 'em and stab 'em with a Bridport dagger, just like we did those villains from the Hermione.'

  Admirals rarely used slang - at least, Ramage had not heard them - but 'Bridport dagger' was very appropriate. Some of the Navy's best rope, particularly hemp, came from the Dorset town of Bridport, and hemp was always used for the hangman's noose. The seamen, with their liking for the bizarre euphemism, had soon tied the town, the hemp, the noose and death into one tidy phrase.

  'I'll have the list for you, sir, and that rounds off the Murex affair, but there is one factor: you remember I mentioned earlier that the Count of Rennes and about fifty other Royalists were being transported by Bonaparte to Devil's Island?'

  Admiral Clinton nodded. 'Rennes? Isn't he the refugee fellow that has a place in England? Down at Ruckinge, I seem to remember. My place is at Great Chart, and my wife and I met him several times. A friend of the Prince Regent, I think.'

  'The same person, sir. He came back to France at the peace. My wife and I were staying with him when he was arrested, as I was telling you, and his valet hid us. I have the valet on board the Murex - he's one of the four Frenchmen who helped me retake the ship.'

  'The others - are they people like the Count?'

  'I don't know who they are, sir, but L'Espoir was fitted out in great haste the moment Bonaparte heard that our ambassador was leaving Paris.'

  'So we are too late to stop her escaping. L 'Espoir ison her way to Devil's Island now.'

  'She's only a few hours ahead, sir. She left Brest about half an hour ahead of the Murex.'

  By now Admiral Clinton was lost in his own thoughts and talking to himself. 'Takes a frigate to catch a frigate - en flûte, you say, so she'll have fewer men and few guns ... more guards because of the prisoners ... Yes, I'd better spare a frigate: it'd be dashed difficult if the Prince heard that nothing had been done ... but if I could take the Count of Rennes back with me ... the frigate'd be a prize too, and there'd be my eighth ...' He gave a startled jerk, as if surprised to find he was not alone in the cabin.

  'Ah, Ramage. Yes, well, just had an idea about that dashed signal from the Calypso. You've got those extra men from Wells' frigate, so the Murex isn't short-handed now. Supposing you take her and go on board the Calypso and see what the devil it's all about. You know the ship so well.'

  Ramage nodded and added the part that the admiral had omitted: 'It will save you detaching any of your frigates, too, sir.'

  'Quite, quite,' Clinton said, as though the thought had never occurred to him. 'Give me time to think about the Count of Rennes and L'Espoir, so if I have any more questions later you can answer them when you get back from the Calypso.'

  'If there is any urgency, sir, a situation which I think calls for the physician of the fleet, should I repeat 215 and the Calypso's pendant?'

  Clinton thought for a moment. 'That would also mean that this flagship had to come up to the Calypso?'

  'Yes, sir. I was thinking only of saving time in a dire emergency.'

  'Very well. But look 'ee Ramage, you're a sensible fellow. I've read all your Gazettes. Bit inclined to go your own way - that wouldn't do if you were serving under me, mind you - but you succeed. So my orders to you - I'll have them put in writing: it'll only take a couple of minutes - are to go on board the Calypso, and sort out whatever is the problem. I must hurry to get into position off Brest - from what you say, Bonaparte has several ships he'd like to get out before I arrive to shut the door. Now, wait on deck while I get my dam' fool secretary to write up your orders. Get the Calypso's position from Captain Bennett, and anything else you need. Looks as if you'll need to visit your tailor as soon as possible.'

  Ramage grinned. 'There's a lot to be said for trousers when you're climbing up a ship's side, sir; breeches are tight.'

  Clinton
said: "Very well. Unless you find it absolutely necessary to hoist 215, you will come up and report to me personally. Use your discretion. I have an odd feeling about this Calypso affair ... Bullivant must have just been made post... Influence of the father, I suppose ... ' Again the admiral seemed to drift away in a reverie, and Ramage quietly left the cabin.

  Captain Bennett took Ramage into his cabin and unrolled a chart. 'The fleet will be here' - he indicated a line thirty miles to the west of Ushant - 'and there'll be the usual frigates here, here, here and (providing this odd signal does not mean the Calypso has to go back to Plymouth) here. The admiral likes a couple of frigates with him, to investigate strange sail.

  'Do you want to note down any latitudes and longitudes?' he asked.

  Shaking his head, Ramage said: 'I should be reporting back in a few hours. How far do you estimate the Calypso is to the north?'

  'Well, the Blackthorne is in sight of us and the Calypso can see her. Say twenty miles. This is a five-knot wind for a brig like the Murex - she must have a clean bottom.'

  'She's clean,' Ramage said, 'but with only a dozen hands I haven't been pressing her!'

  'A dozen, eh?'

  'And four landmen, only one of whom speaks English!'

  At that moment a bespectacled young man came into the cabin after the Marine sentry announced him.

  He handed a slim volume and a sheet of paper to Ramage. 'A copy of the Signal Book and the admiral's orders, sir: he particularly wants you to read them before you leave the ship.'

  Murmuring 'If you'll excuse me,' to Bennett, he read the copperplate handwriting and stylized wording. The phrases were dignified, those used by their Lordships and admirals for scores of years. They added up to the fact that whatever happened the man giving the orders took no responsibility for the results, while the man receiving them had no choice... However, in this case Admiral Clinton had obviously consulted Steel's List and found that Ramage was senior to Bullivant, and the orders, which of necessity were phrased with no knowledge of what was the matter, gave Ramage authority 'to rectify, make good, issue orders and otherwise do what is required for the benefit of the King's Service in relation to the vessel herein described'.