by Dudley Pope
With that he went below, leaving Ramage wondering whether it was an idle remark made in a fit of pique or if anything else lay behind the words.
The Spanish admiral sat at his desk in the great cabin and looked closely at Ramage and Jackson. He turned and spoke rapidly to the translator who said,
'His Excellency wishes to know when you last saw British ships of war?'
'Two weeks ago,' said Ramage.
'Where?'
'Off Cape Corse - a frigate.'
With this related to the admiral the translator asked several more question designed to find out where the British Fleet was, sometimes asking Ramage and sometimes Jackson.
Suddenly the admiral asked Ramage, in poor English, 'You seem to be a man of superior intelligence: how many sail of the line and frigates do you think the English have in the Mediterranean?'
Ramage pretended to be counting on his fingers while he thought of an answer. Should he exaggerate to frighten the Spanish admiral back into port, or say fewer, so the Spanish would seek out the British Fleet and thus give Sir John Jervis a chance of trouncing them? Then, remembering that the evacuation of Corsica - which meant protecting large convoys of merchantmen - was Sir John's prime consideration at the moment, he decided to exaggerate.
'Reckon about fifteen ships o' the line, sir. Frigates - I can only guess. 'Bout thirty.'
The surprise showed on the admiral's face: this was bad news.
'Fifteen? Name them!'
Ramage listed all those he knew had been in the Mediterranean and to the Tagus in the past few months, although many had subsequently left again.
'That makes twelve,' the admiral said.
Jackson promptly added three more names, saying he had seen one off Bastia and two off Leghorn less than a month ago.
'Why did you not know of these?' Ramage was asked.
'I was in another ship; I wasn't sent to the cutter' - he could not bring himself to say 'Kathleen' - 'until two weeks ago.'
'Very well. Your cutter - she was taking part in evacuating Corsica?'
Ramage just avoided falling into the trap and answered before Jackson could speak. 'No, sir, we was going to Gibraltar for orders, so I heard at the scuttlebutt: but I never heard any talk of 'vacuating Corsica. Why would they want to do that?'
Jackson was shaking his head, as if equally puzzled.
'You may go,' the admiral said abruptly.
Ramage turned, but Jackson asked:
'Sir, none of us - that is, the ones sent over from the frigate - is English, so will we be set free when we get into port?'
The admiral said pompously, 'We are not kidnappers like the English. If you do not wish to serve the King my Master - and I am told you do not, which is ingratitude since his servants were your rescuers - I will consider your applications.'
'Thank you, sir,' said Ramage. 'We are most grateful. When your ships came alongside, we all guessed we'd be delivered.'
It was spreading the jam thickly, but Ramage could see that profusely thanking the admiral for doing something he had not yet done - had simply said he would consider doing - would ensure his vanity did the rest.
The admiral held up his hand deprecatingly.
'It is nothing. My officers will see you are fed and clothed.'
Ramage gave a clumsy salute, followed by Jackson, and they both left the cabin. They found the other men lounging about on the gangway chatting as best they could with the Spanish seamen. There seemed to be a complete lack of discipline: men were sleeping beside the fo'c'sle guns; others were on the hammocks stowed in the nettings along the top of the bulwarks.
'What's the news, Jacko?' asked the Cockney seaman.
'The admiral—' he caught sight of the translator approaching, and raised his voice slightly '—the admiral has promised that we are free men and we can go on shore as soon as we get to a Spanish port.'
The men gave a cheer and Ramage suspected it was in response to a wink from Jackson, but it was effective: the translator, who was probably the admiral's secretary and clerk, gave an ingratiating smile as he passed, and Ramage knew Jackson's announcement and the men's cheer would be reported back to the admiral.
The main things that interested Ramage now were to discover the strength of the Spanish Fleet and the admiral's plans - both the original one, which presumably would now be abandoned, and the new one taking its place. He'd have plenty of time to see how he'd get the intelligence to Gibraltar...
A glance round the horizon answered the first question: there were exactly thirty-two sail of the line - at least six of them three-deckers - and a dozen frigates (and three or four more presumably over the horizon). The Cockney seaman, Will Stafford, provided some of the other answers, after pointing out that the frigate towing the Kathleen had left the Fleet (to avoid delaying it, Ramage guessed).
'They've been telling us they 'aven't 'ad much luck this cruise, Nick.'
'Is that so?'
'Nah - bin chasin' Old Jarvie all rahn the Medingterraneang, and never did see 'im. They reckon he's too scared to show 'isself.'
'They're right, Will,' Jackson said, conscious two or three Spanish officers had apparently casually walked into earshot. 'Old Jarvie wouldn't want to meet this Fleet.'
'Nah - well, anyway, the admiral's goin' to Carthygeeny for water and vittels, so I reckon 'e'll put us on shore there.'
'Don't care much where it is,' Ramage said, 'as long as we can get a ship home.'
'Aye,' echoed Jackson, 'as long as we can get home.'
Four days later the smell of scorching rope as the anchor cable raced out through the hawse hole drifted back to where Ramage stood on the starboard gangway looking at Cartagena. He could see, even though it was almost dark, that Spain was lucky to have an almost landlocked naval base where Nature provided such high cliffs and mountains as powerful defences against its own onslaught and the attack of enemy fleets.
As usual Ramage dreaded going below. He had no illusions about conditions below decks in a British man o' war in port: the regulation space allocated to every seaman was six feet by fourteen inches: in that space he slung his hammock. A man every fourteen inches. At sea, of course, each man had double that space because most of the ship's company was divided into two watches, arbitrarily called larboard and starboard. Usually a man in the larboard watch slung his hammock next to one in the starboard watch, and since one was always on watch the other had an empty hammock on either side of him. In harbour though, with both watches sleeping, it was a different story, and with the low head-room (usually five feet four inches or less) the whole deck would be packed solid with sleeping, snoring and sweating men (and, all too often, women). The air was frequently so foul the candles guttered in the sentries' lanterns and men woke with a taste in their mouth as if they'd been sucking a copper coin and a headache which affected their sight. But for all that, in a British ship the decks were clean, spotlessly clean, and the bilges were kept fairly sweet by frequent pumping.
But as far as Ramage was concerned, the lower decks of all Spanish men 'o war were worse than the manger of a British ship when it was full of pigs and cattle: they were, as far as he could see, scrubbed but rarely, and pieces of vegetables and particularly tough meat the seamen could not chew were tossed over their shoulders and left rotting in odd corners. And always the reek of garlic - bad enough if you stood too near a Spaniard - grasping you with invisible tentacles if you went below.
Ramage had, therefore, been relieved to hear the outraged complaints of his men the first night on board: Jackson swore he'd never ever had a nightmare in which a ship was so filthy, and Will Stafford swore in his broad Cockney that by comparison the Fleet Ditch smelled like a young maiden's boudoir, even if it did carry most of London's muck and ordure into the Thames. From then on he had always referred to going below as 'visiting the Fleet'.
Jackson came up and said, 'Guess what's for supper.'
'Bean soup.'
'How did you know?'
'Well,
we've had it for every meal so far.'
The admiral's secretary called them over and with him was the flagship's first lieutenant, who did not speak English.
'The captain has given orders that you are free to go on shore as soon as a boat is available - as soon as the admiral's suite and certain officers have left the ship,' he said.
'Please thank the captain - and the admiral.'
'Of course. You will all stay at a particular inn for the time being.' He paused. 'It is a condition of your release that you stay at this inn until you leave Spain.'
'Certainly, sir,' said Ramage, 'but how can we pay an inn-keeper's bill? We've no money - the English haven't paid us for months.'
'I know that: I read the ship's books. The admiral has generously given orders that you'll be given the equivalent of the pay owing to you. The lieutenant has the money and I have a copy of the amount due to each of you. I shall give you the copy and you will issue it to the men. This,' he said to Jackson, 'will be agreeable to you and the others?'
'Oh yes, sir,' Jackson said respectfully, 'we all trust Nick.'
'Very well.' He gave Ramage a slip of paper, and spoke to the lieutenant, who handed Ramage a small canvas bag which, from its weight, obviously contained the money, and held out a piece of paper.
'The receipt for the money. You will sign it,' said the translator. 'Come to my cabin. I have a pen there.'
Ramage would have liked to have counted the money to see how much less there was in the bag than stated on the receipt, but decided not to in case it delayed them getting on shore.
An hour later the eight former Kathleens stepped out of a boat on to the quay and followed a Spanish seaman to the inn - a typical crimp's establishment. If it had been at Portsmouth, Plymouth or in the Medway towns, a seaman using it would have been on his guard against the innkeeper seeing him and his mates to bed drunk and calling a crimp (if he wasn't a crimp on his own account) who would then sell the drunken bodies to the skipper of a merchantman short of crew, or if times were hard, to a naval press gang.
The eight of them were given two rooms, and Ramage gathered them all in one of them to issue the pay.
'I signed a receipt for the Spanish dollar equivalent of the pay owing,' he said. 'But there won't be that many dollars in this bag.'
'No,' said Stafford. 'The purser, the officer who gave you the money, and that translator ... That makes at least three of 'em who've already took a reef in it.'
Ramage counted out the coins. Exactly a third of the amount had been abstracted.
'They're as bad as our chaps,' Stafford said bitterly. 'Every - oh, beggin' yer pardon, Nick...'
'Don't worry,' said Ramage, 'I wasn't born yesterday. But everyone has to take a third less than is due to him.'
With that he shared out the money then said, pointing to the door, 'Jackson, just check....'
Jackson whipped the door open, but no one was eavesdropping.
'Right,' said Ramage. 'For a moment I am your captain again and I must tell you that although the Spanish have freed you, you are still subject to the Articles of War: you are still under my command. Now, any one of you can sneak off to the Spanish authorities and reveal who I am. No one can stop you. The Articles of War can hardly be enforced here, so only your personal loyalty can make you obey my orders. Yet we all have a duty to perform, and I for one propose doing it. But I'm not forcing any of you to follow me: all I ask is that those who don't want to come with me - those who wish to stay in Spain or go elsewhere - I want those men to say so now, and do nothing to give me away. As soon as it's safe to do so, I'll free them from their obligations. Now - who wants to go?'
The Portuguese seaman locked shamefaced.
'I haven't seen my family for three years, sir, and the frontier...'
'Very well, you can go.'
'You understand, sir?'
Ramage held out his hand as an indication of his sincerity and the Portuguese gripped it eagerly. 'I promise you, sir, I shall never say anything.'
'I know,' Ramage said.
'Will you have to—'
'Put you down as "Run"? Officially I have to, but I've a bad memory for names, Ferraro. When the time comes it'll be hard to remember who were prisoners and who were taken to the flagship.'
He looked round. 'Anyone else?'
No one moved. It was hard to be sure. Among the remaining six men was there just one crafty enough to realize that by feigning loyalty and discovering Ramage's plan, he'd have useful information to sell to the Spanish for a high price? It was hard to be sure; very hard.
'Very well. Now, all of you go off and get your supper. Go steady with the liquor - remember it loosens tongues: a quart of red wine could put Spanish nooses round all our necks.'
The men trooped off, jingling their dollars, but Jackson stayed behind.
'Well, Jackson, can we trust them all?'
'Every single man, sir - including Ferraro. You can't blame him for wanting to go.'
'Of course not, and I don't.'
'Would it be impertinent if I asked about the plan, sir?'
'You may, but there isn't one yet. Obviously I've got to pass all we can find out about the Spanish Fleet to Sir John as soon as possible. At the moment I don't know how.'
'It's not far to the Rock, sir. We could get horses ...'
'Too dangerous - and too uncomfortable. A long ride and then the risk of crossing to the Rock. If the Spanish didn't shoot us our own sentries would.'
That leaves the sea, sir.'
'Yes,' said Ramage. 'We're sailors, not cavalrymen. Ships don't need sleep or fodder. But I need both at the moment. We'll have a look round the port in the morning and see what it has to offer.'
CHAPTER TWELVE
A good night's sleep had not refreshed Ramage: he had been at sea so long that lying in a bed that did not move in a room that did not creak was both unnatural and disturbing, and wakefulness had only emphasized that he shared the straw mattress with a number of small creatures entirely un-Spanish in their persistence and capacity to cause irritation.
He looked round the room at the seven men and nodded to the Portuguese. 'Since you are leaving us, Ferraro, what I have to talk to these men about doesn't concern you; but you can lend a hand by sitting in the parlour and watching the stairs so no one can listen at this door.'
As soon as the Portuguese left Ramage looked back at the remaining six men. Motley, cosmopolitan ... the words hardly described them. Well, he'd better get started, although he was going to sound like a pompous parson. The men watching saw only the deep-set brown eyes glancing keenly from one to another. Although he did not know it such was the strength of his personality that not one of them noticed that instead of wearing the blue, gold-trimmed uniform of a lieutenant, their captain was dressed in trousers and shirt even more faded and worn than their own.
'Men, you know the position because I explained it to you yesterday. You are free: you never need serve in the Royal Navy again. You are all foreigners or, like me,' he smiled, 'you have documents declaring you to be foreign subjects. But despite my splendid Protection, I'm still a King's officer, there's still a war to fight, and I've my duty. Yesterday, with the exception of Ferraro, you all said you wanted to continue serving with me. You've had a night to think it over. Has anyone had second thoughts? If so, speak up now. You've all served me well, so I'll never remember names, and you'll never be marked down as having "Run". But I warn you if you stay with me, you'll be no safer than you were in the Kathleen.'
No one spoke; no one looked uncomfortable, as though he wanted to leave but dare not face the others. Jackson had been right. Then Will Stafford finally sucked his teeth - an inevitable preliminary, Ramage realized, before he ever made a remark - and said with a broad grin, 'Beggin' yer pardon, sir, but yer can't get rid of us as easy as that!'
'Thank you,' Ramage said almost humbly. Because he was young, he thought the men must be crazy to miss such an opportunity; but at least he had been fair in twice offe
ring them their freedom.
'S'just one fing, sir,' Stafford continued, and the tone of his voice made Ramage's heart sink: here was the catch, here was the condition, the pistol at his head.
'Well?' he tried to sound amiable.
'Our pay, sir, 'Ow do we stand abaht that? We've got some dollars, but I've 'eard it said yer pay stops if yer gets captured. Don't seem fair on a man, but that's wot I've 'eard.'
Although Ramage didn't know the answer, he tried not to let the relief show on his face. But the more he thought about it, the more he thought it was stopped, and anyway, with the last muster book lost, it'd be hard for a seaman to claim his pay from those scallywag clerks at the Navy Board office. Still, he had money of his own, and he said: 'You'll get every penny owing to you: I'll see to that. At the moment you're paid up to date, thanks to the Spanish admiral - minus the Spanish purser's deductions!'
This raised a laugh, since pursers were notorious for their ingenuity in finding reasons for deducting odd amounts from the men's pay.
'The deductions wasn't too bad, sir,' Stafford said philosophically. 'We gets a quarter knocked off when we sells our tickets; sometimes more. Just depends.'
And that, Ramage knew, was only too true: one of the more glaring injustices in the Navy was that the seamen were normally paid at the end of a commission, and then usually in the form of tickets which could be cashed only at the pay office of the port where the ship commissioned. This was rarely the port at which they were paid, so the men frequently had to sell their tickets to touts on the quay who paid only a half or three-quarters of the face value and then took them by the bundle to the appropriate port office and cashed them for the full amount.
Six men - three with genuine Protections 'proving' them to be Americans (but only one of whom, Jackson, really was); a Genovesi, whose loyalty belonged to the Republic of Genoa (although Ramage remembered that after overrunning it, the French had renamed it something else fairly recently); a Dane whose country maintained a wary neutrality, with the Czar of Russia watching from the east and the French from the south; and finally the West Indian lad. Although he hadn't the slightest idea what he was going to do, Ramage knew that all their lives and the success of the plan might eventually depend on the bravery, skill or loyalty of one man; so it was vital he knew more about each of them - except for Jackson, who had more than proved himself already.