by Dudley Pope
'The fault is mine,' Barrow admitted wearily. 'I should have questioned the witness about its validity before he began reading.'
'Please continue,' Croucher said hurriedly.
Pisano raised his voice, as if determined to shut out any further interruptions. Ramage noticed that the letter seemed even more hysterical and unbalanced when read aloud by Pisano than when he'd seen it in Probus's cabin.
Pisano was now behaving like an actor playing to the gallery — heavy emphasis here, a significant pause there, and the whole narration accompanied by meaningful gestures with his left hand. He thumped his chest when referring to Pitti being wounded (not his head, Ramage noted); he thumped his right shoulder as he mentioned the Marchesa's wound.
The effect on the six captains was interesting and Ramage, tired of watching Pisano's play-acting, began watching them closely. Ferris was embarrassed and drawing idly on a pad. The captain sitting next to him also seemed to be an uncomfortable spectator. Blackman - rather hard to guess what was passing through his mind: he was a deep fellow and was no doubt trying to visualize the effect of Pisano's letter when read by Their Lordships in the quietude of the Admiralty. However, Croucher seemed to be satisfied and oblivious of Pisano's antics. Herbert and the sixth man both clearly wished they were at sea.
Finally Pisano finished reading and threw the letter on to the table with a flourish.
'The court will question you,' said Croucher.
'I am at your service,' he replied with a bow.
'You saw Count Pitti fall?'
'Yes: I heard a shot and I saw him fall.'
'Did you go to his assistance?' Ferris asked.
'No, there was no time.'
‘Why?'
'Because I knew the Marchesa was wounded and I wanted to help her.'
'But surely there was time to see how badly wounded he was?' persisted Ferris.
'Chivalry and honour dictates that a lady has preference,' Pisano said loftily.
Croucher asked: 'And when you reached the boat?'
'I waited.'
‘For what?'
'For the Marchesa.'
'And then?'
'She came with the Lieutenant*
‘Then?'
'The Lieutenant ordered the men to start rowing as soon as the other sailor came.'
'Did you say anything?'
'Mio Dio! I pleaded with him to wait for Count Pitti!'
'But,' asked Ferris, 'what made you think Count Pitti could walk?'
Pisano paused for a moment. 'I hoped.'
'How far away were the French cavalry?' asked Croucher, trying to change Ferris's line of questioning.
'Oh—' Pisano was clearly unsure what answer to make. 'It was very difficult to tell.'
'When did you first decide that Lieutenant Ramage's behaviour gave you cause for alarm?'
'Oh - before I met him. His plan was madness. I told everyone so. And I was correct: look what happened: Count Pitti and the Marchesa wounded...'
'When,' continued Croucher, 'did you make your complaint?'
'As soon as I met a responsible British officer.'
'I do not think the court has any further questions,' Croucher said in a voice which defied Ferris to say anything. 'The prisoner may cross-examine the witness.'
Pisano stood up at the same moment as Ramage, who said politely to Captain Croucher, 'The witness must still be feeling the effects of the blow on his head. Could he be permitted to be seated again?'
'Oh yes, of course,' agreed Croucher. 'Do please ...'
Pisano sat down, not realizing for a moment or two that Ramage now had the advantage of looking down at him.
'Count Pisano,' Ramage said, 'both the peasant and the Marchesa explained to you before you came to—'
'A leading question,' interrupted Croucher. 'You must not ask questions that instruct a witness as to the answer he is to give.'
'I beg your pardon, sir.'
He turned back to Pisano.
rWhen did you know that there was only a small boat to rescue you?'
'The peasant told me.'
‘How many were there in your original party?'
'Six.'
'How many eventually decided to come in the boat?'
'You know perfectly well'
'Answer the question.'
'Three.'
Why did the others not come?'
'They did not like the plan.'
'But you did?'
'Yes - no, I mean.'
'You did not like the plan, yet you came?'
'Yes.'
'You arrived at the boat first, before any of the rest of the party?'
‘Yes.'
'Then what happened?'
'You know perfectly well: you arrived at the boat carrying the Marchesa.'
'After that?'
'She was helped on board.'
'By whom?'
'The sailors - and you.'
'But not you.'
'No.'
'Did I get into the boat then?'
'Yes.'
The man lied so smoothly that Ramage was thrown off his balance.
'You did not hear me ask one of the seamen where Count Pitti was?'
'No.'
'You did not see me wade back and go up to the top of the dunes?'
'No.'
'Nor call out for Jackson, the other seaman?'
‘No’.'
Croucher interrupted: ‘You do not seem to be pursuing a profitable line of questioning with this witness, Mr Ramage.'
No, Ramage thought: he's just going to lie and lie. And all I've done is put Pisano's original story into the court minutes in a more convincing form.
Croucher told Pisano he could stand down, and then had to explain what the phrase meant.
Then Croucher looked straight at Ramage: there was a look of triumph in his face, and he said, 'The prisoner will make his defence.'
Ramage was just about to speak when Croucher said testily, ‘Haven't you written out your defence? Don't say we have to waste time while you dictate it to the Deputy Judge Advocate? Surely you know by now you should read it and give him a copy?'
'If you will allow me, sir...'
‘Well, go on then!'
'Regarding the loss of the Sibella, I do not feel it necessary to re-call the Bosun and the Carpenter's Mate to give evidence on my behalf: the evidence they have already given in support of the charge makes it clear I did the only thing possible in the circumstances.'
'That is for the court to decide,' commented Croucher.
Was it worth calling Jackson? What could he add? Ramage decided he would not bother. Instead he said:
'Of course, sir. But Count Pisano's evidence introduces another aspect of the case not referred to in the charge, and I wish to call one witness in my defence.'
He paused deliberately, knowing Croucher expected him to call Jackson, and waiting for him to get impatient.
'Well, name the witness, then!'
'Call the Marchesa di Volterra.'
Barrow hurriedly whipped off his spectacles and Croucher banged the table to stop the Marine sentry opening the door and repeating Ramage's words outside.
'You cannot call the Marchesa.'
‘Why not, sir?'
Croucher waved a piece of paper. 'She's not on your own list of witnesses.'
'But the court has already decided it has the authority to call a witness not listed.'
'The court, yes: but not a prisoner.'
Ramage glanced at Barrow and saw he had stopped writing and was watching Croucher.
‘With all due respect, sir, I think this should be recorded in the minutes. I have asked for only one witness. Am I to understand the court refuses to call her?'
'You understand correctly, Mr Ramage. The Judge Advocate General ruled that a person could be called if the court thought that person "capable of giving material testimony". The Marchesa has already told us all she knows; indeed, you insisted her words should be entere
d in the minutes. The court does not think she can add any further "material testimony" to what she has already said.'
Ramage rubbed the scar over his forehead. The noose was round his neck now: he'd placed it there himself, and now Croucher was hauling in the slack.
In writing, set down in the minutes, Croucher's decision would sound reasonable enough... if only he'd - oh, the devil with it.
'Very well, sir, I would like to call a witness who is on my list. Thomas Jackson.'
Any port in a storm, he thought.
'Carry on, Barrow,' said Croucher smoothly. 'Call the witness.'
When Jackson came into the cabin Ramage felt less lonely; yet he knew his anchors were dragging. The court would pass a verdict involving cowardice, and anyone reading the minutes would agree with the sentence.
The American was smartly dressed: he would have made a favourable impression on an unprejudiced court. Taking the oath and answering Barrow's routine questions, he spoke in a clear voice which had only a slight American accent.
Ramage felt a twinge of conscience as he remembered the American had deliberately made Probus arrest him so that he could be available as a witness, and only a few moments ago Ramage had decided not to call him...
'You may begin your interrogatories,' Croucher told him.
'Thank you, sir,' said Ramage automatically - for a moment his mind had been a complete blank. The Sibella - yes, he'd fill in a few blanks there.
'After Captain Letts had been killed, when did you first see me on deck?'
'As soon as you dragged yourself up, sir.' ‘Dragged?' repeated Ferris.
'Yes, sir: he was very dazed and bleeding from his wound.'
‘From then until we left the ship, for how long were you not at my side?'
'Only a few minutes, sir.'
'What instructions did I give you prior to leaving the ship?'
'Several, sir, but you told me to get the charts and logs, and I helped you find the Captain's order book and letter book.'
'If you had been left the senior surviving rating, what steps would you have taken to keep the ship afloat?'
Would Croucher allow that?
'There were no steps that could be taken, sir: she was sinking too fast'
Good: he'd try another one.
'If you had been in command, how would you have safeguarded the wounded?'
'I don't know, sir,' Jackson said frankly. 'The way you did it was the best, but I'd never have thought of it'
'Now, the night we took off the Marchesa di Volterra and Count Pisano: will you describe what happened from the time we first heard them approaching us?'
'Yes, sir. Well—'
At that moment the door of the cabin rattled violently as someone knocked on the framework. It was an urgent knock; a knock intended to warn Captain Croucher the reason for the interruption was important.
'Give way, there! Come in!' roared Croucher.
A lieutenant hurried up to the table and handed Croucher a note. He might, for the look of anger spreading over Croucher's face, have just cheated him out of five years' prize money.
'The court is adjourned indefinitely,' he announced. 'Barrow, inform the witnesses accordingly. You are freed from arrest,' he told Ramage. 'Of course you must hold yourself ready for when the court meets again,' he added hastily, as if realizing he was revealing his anger a little too openly.
At that moment the dull boom of a single gun echoed across the anchorage - from seaward, Ramage noted.
Chapter 18
RAMAGE hurried from the cabin before the captains could get round the table, walked on to the quarter-deck and looked over the side. About a mile offshore a line-of-battle ship was beating into the anchorage, all plain sail set and her bows a flurry of spray. A commodore's broad pendant flew from her mainmast and she was flying a Union flag from the mizen top-masthead: the signal for all captains to come on board. The Commodore isn't wasting any time, Ramage thought.
Was Gianna still on board the Trumpeter? A lieutenant, telescope to his eye, was standing by the mizenmast and Ramage called:
'Has the Marchesa gone on shore?'
The lieutenant lowered his telescope in surprise.
'Oh - er, no: she's waiting in the clerk's office.'
Ramage ran back towards Croucher's cabin, from which members of the court were now emerging. The clerk's cabin was a tiny box forward of the Captain's accommodation, and in a moment he was flinging the door open.
She glanced up in alarm: she was sitting in the only chair, her hands clasped together.
'Nicholas!'
'I thought you'd gone!'
'No - they wanted me to but...' .
'But what?'
A silly question, but there was too much unexplained for them to be other than shy.
'But -1 wanted to wait until it's all over. Is it?'
He held her hands and looked down at her: the eyes were questioning, worried, beautiful.
'For the time being.'
‘What happened?'
'Commodore Nelson's arriving. Come and watch.'
'Commodore Nelson! The little captain!'
‘Yes - you know him?'
‘No - but in Livorno they spoke of no one else. He is a friend of yours?'
'No - I've never met him.'
'A pity,' she said, standing up. 'If he was, he would help you and make everything all right.'
'I need someone—' he stopped.
'Someone?' she prompted, standing very close, looking up at him.
'—someone about as tall as him but much more interesting.'
‘Who?’ she asked with innocence which made her beauty glow with freshness.
'You.'
‘Then everything is all right.'
Her lips were close to his: but a sudden outburst of shouting made her tauten with fear.
‘What's happening? And why did they fire that gun?'
'The Commodore's signalled that he wants all the captains to go on board his ship.'
'Let us watch,' she said excitedly.
The captains were impatiently pacing up and down the gangway while Croucher bellowed for a boat. Ramage led Gianna to the quarter-deck.
Although he had been at sea almost continually for nearly eight years - for so long that when rarely he saw green fields, country lanes, colourful birds and flowers it was with the fresh curiosity of a stranger — Ramage always felt the same excitement, almost wonder, watching a great warship thrashing her way to windward.
The sunlight burnishing the sea a bright blue was so strong the colour seemed harsh; and the Libeccio, its sharp edge blunted as it blew across the width of Corsica, momentarily stippled the tops of the waves with daubs of white.
The ship, her bold sheerline emphasized by the two parallel yellow strakes running the length of her black hull, came surging in, swooping and plunging over the troughs and crests of the swell waves with the easy ridge-and-furrow flight of a woodpecker. Her powerful rounded bow punched each successive sea, dissolving them into rainbow showers of sparkling diamonds which cascaded over her foredeck or blew away downwind, their moment of beauty quickly past. From the buff-painted masts and yards the great sails arched down in taut curves, catching every ounce of wind, and dark patches on the foot of the courses and headsails showed spray was flying high, soaking the canvas and staining its natural colour - a warm tint of umber, with a touch of raw sienna or perhaps yellow ochre, and which really needed the tones of a rising or setting sun to bring out its richness.
Gianna said: 'Now I know why you are a sailor: I have never seen such a sight.'
There was awe in her voice, as if she understood the raw and naked power of a ship of war and the way it bent the forces of Nature to its own purposes; a hint of awe, too, at the beauty of the ship and the swathe of spray it cut through the sea; and - yes, perhaps even a hint of envy that it was a life in which she could not enter.
Ramage beckoned a midshipman and borrowed the boy's telescope. In the waist of the
approaching ship, between the fore- and mainmasts, men were busy round one of the boats stowed there. They would be hooking on the stay-tackle, ready to hoist it out.
Suddenly groups of seamen appeared at the foot of the shrouds of each mast, ant-like in the distance: Captain Towry — for the ship was the Diadem - was preparing to anchor, and the topmen were waiting for the order to scramble aloft to take in the topgallants. He's leaving everything rather late, thought Ramage: there'll have to be some very smart sail-handling in the next few minutes.
Suddenly the men began swarming hand over hand up the shrouds until they were level with the great yards on which were set the courses, the lowest and largest of the sails. Without pausing they climbed on past them, and past the topsails set above, until they were at the crosstrees. From the deck the topgallant yards were hauled round until the wind, instead of filling the sails, blew along the length of the canvas so that it shivered ineffectually.
The yards were then lowered a few feet and in a flash the topmen were scrambling out along them while Gianna exclaimed 'Mio Dio!' at the thought of them working more than a hundred feet above the deck on masts which gyrated like stalks of corn in a high wind.
The sails, already hauled up to the yards like curtains, were furled and secured with gaskets. The men side-stepped along the yards back to the safety of the crosstrees and a moment later were scrambling down the shrouds to the deck.
Strange, thought Ramage: what about the topsails? The ship was by now barely half a mile from the entrance to the harbour: in four minutes or less she would have covered that distance. Then slowly the big fore and main yards were hauled round parallel to the wind so that the courses shivered, and at that instant were hauled right up to the yards in huge, loosely billowing bundles by the men on deck. At once more seamen scurried up the shrouds and furled the sails neatly on the yards - the forecourse was made of more than three thousand square feet of canvas while the maincourse was more than four thousand - and at the same moment the jib and foretopmast staysails came tumbling down to the jib-boom and bowsprit.
So Captain Towry was going to heave-to the ship: was she not staying long? What on earth was going on? The Diadem was now inshore of the Trumpeter and only a few hundred yards from the beach. Ramage saw the foretopsail yard being hauled round until it was lying parallel to the wind, and then even farther, so that the wind was pressing the yard and sail back against the mast. Slowly the ship lost speed.