by Dudley Pope
“Yes. And by now he will have read your despatch on the Sidi Rezegh affair—not that this is what he is coming to see me about. No, he is coming to look you over.”
“I’m flattered, sir,” Ramage said, knowing that the sarcasm would be lost on Rudd.
With that the admiral picked up some papers from his desk and began reading them. Ten minutes later there was a knock at the door and the first lieutenant called: “Mr Paget is coming alongside, sir.”
“Very well. I’ll come down to meet him.”
The admiral got up from his desk and jammed on his hat, saying to Ramage: “Wait here.”
When he came into the cabin with the admiral, Ramage saw that Arthur Paget was a red-faced man of medium height, too fat and puffing after his exertions. He flopped down in the chair opposite the admiral’s desk and said: “I must say it is easier to call on the army, Rudd; none of this damned messing about with boats. I just climb into my carriage!”
“Quite so, sir,” Rudd said ingratiatingly, “but at least it is pleasantly cool afloat; you’ll grant me that.”
Paget grunted and said suddenly: “Is this the young fellow?”
“Ah yes, may I present Captain Ramage?”
As Ramage stood up, Paget said sharply: “Ramage? Not Lord Ramage, the son of the Earl of Blazey?”
“Yes, sir,” Ramage said, bowing slightly.
Paget turned to Rudd. “Well, that settles that—no question about it. By the way, that was a splendid effort of yours at Sidi Rezegh: I read your despatch this morning. The king will be very pleased. The war between the Sicilians and the Saracens has been going on for centuries: not often that the Sicilians come off on top.”
Paget stood up and shook hands with Ramage, and then sat down again, motioning Ramage to be seated.
“What have you told him, Rudd?”
“Nothing, sir. I thought it best if I left it to you.”
“Very well. Now, Ramage, the king is also involved in this. It is of the utmost importance that a passenger is carried safely to Gibraltar, where a passage onwards to England can be arranged.”
Ramage nodded without saying anything.
“This passenger’s life is very valuable, I must impress that upon you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And it is very important that you are a good host. You will of course give up your cabin.”
“Of course,” Ramage said, feeling resentful.
“Very well. Then we had better introduce them,” Paget said.
“My flag-captain is acting as host,” Rudd said. “I will send for them.”
He called to the marine sentry outside the door to pass the word for his flag-lieutenant, and as soon as the man appeared he was sent off to fetch the flag-captain and “our guest.”
“I don’t need to tell you, Ramage, that this is a very delicate situation. You must be very tactful, apart from being a good host. This person has great influence in London: one word of criticism could blight your career.”
“Indeed. I will take care, sir,” Ramage said, beginning to be resentful of the fact that he was being inspected like a prize bull.
The door was flung open and a woman came in, took one look at Ramage and, saying an unbelieving “Nicholas!” ran across the cabin and flung herself into his arms, kissing him on both cheeks and laughing with surprise and pleasure.
Paget, who had sprung to his feet, exclaimed: “You know each other?”
“The Marchesa di Volterra and I have met before, sir,” Ramage said.
“Met before!” Gianna exclaimed. “Why, he rescued me from Bonaparte’s cavalry many years ago, when I first escaped!”
Suddenly she was serious. “Nicholas, now you are married, will I still be able to stay with your parents in London? I mean, will it be proper? Will your wife mind?”
“On the contrary,” Ramage said. “I hope you will go and stay with Sarah as well; we have a pleasant place in the country.”
“And what ship do you have?”
“The same—the Calypso.”
Gianna laughed and clapped her hands. “And tell me—you still have my nephew Paolo, and Southwick, and Jackson, and Stafford, and Rossi—all my old friends?”
“Yes,” said Ramage, “Paolo will be excited and relieved to see you—he thought you were dead. There are a few new faces, but you’ll feel at home.”
Suddenly Gianna was serious. “You and your father were right,” she said. “You told me not to go to Paris because the Peace would not last, and you were absolutely right. I was seized by Bonaparte’s men, and thrown into prison.”
“But how did you get here?” asked a puzzled Ramage.
“Eventually they took me to Volterra. The people kept on revolting and they wanted me to set up a government—a puppet government obedient to Bonaparte. But I would not. I kept on refusing—and waiting. There are still people loyal to me, and one day they helped me to escape. I knew the way from the last time I escaped, when Bonaparte first invaded Italy. I got to Florence and then to Rome, where more friends helped me to get to Naples. So here I am. And going to be your guest all the way to Gibraltar. I long to see your parents again. Tell me, your father, he won’t be cross with me, will he?”