Chapter Eight
As the grey dawn pushed the darkness westward away from the convoy, Ramage looked round the horizon anxiously until he sighted both the Greyhound and the Peacock over on the lee side of the convoy. It was still not light enough to distinguish detail, but since the Peacock had sail set, the Greyhounds must have had a busy night.
Ramage was weary. As soon as he could leave the ship to Southwick he had gone below to talk to the wounded, while on deck the dead were being sewn into hammocks ready for burial. After that he had gone to his cabin to write his report to Admiral Goddard - potentially the most dangerous part of the night's activities.
At daylight, with a clear horizon, the guns were secured and head-pumps rigged to scrub and holystone the deck. Large patches which had shown up black in the early light had finally revealed themselves as dried blood.
As they scrubbed, Stafford asked Jackson: "Will they take 'er into Antigua?"
The American shrugged his shoulders. "If she isn't damaged too much ... otherwise Jamaica, I should think. Better off in Jamaica - big dockyard at Kingston."
"Better price in the prize court there, too," Stafford commented.
"Hmm, I hadn't thought of that. Still, we won't get much."
"Why?" Rossi demanded angrily. "We did all the fighting! But for us they lose the Topaz. The Greyhound - she is very late."
"All ships of war in sight at the time get a share," Jackson said.
"Dio mio, is not fair!" Rossi exclaimed, his accent thickening the more angry he became. "The Lion and the frigates - the lugger, too - why, is so dark they see nozzing! The Grey'ound - 'e only come after the flashes. Next time we write 'im a letter of the invitation!"
"Easy now," Stafford said mildly. "Listen, Jacko, I know that's the law, but why?"
"If another warship's in sight, it might affect what the prize did."
"Cor, wot a lot o' nonsense!"
"No it isn't. Could be you one day. Say the Lark lugger found a big merchantman and chased her. Not a hope of catching up, and precious little of capturing her if she did. Then we come over the horizon ahead of the merchantman and capture her. The Lark has a right to a share - after all, she found and chased the prize: but for her she might have gone in a different direction. And we'd deserve a share, because without us she couldn't have been captured. And if there was a third warship they'd probably deserve a share because that's another direction the merchantman couldn't have escaped."
"Yus, well that makes sense, Jacko; but this was in the dark."
"Dark or not," Jackson explained patiently, "the Peacock knew the rest of them were there. She wouldn't have tried to bolt across the bows of the convoy - she knew the Lion and Antelope were there. Nor astern, because of the Greyhound and Lark."
A few yards aft of the three men, Ramage and Southwick were also discussing the night's events, the Master saying vehemently: "I don't care what you say, I'm damned certain that the Greyhound was there only because she was trying to keep station on us; she wasn't bothering to watch the convoy. We could have gone ten miles ahead of the convoy towing a seine net and the Lord Mayor's carriage, and come dawn we'd have found the Greyhound six cables astern of us."
Ramage laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "Doesn't matter, really; the main thing is she was there when needed."
"If you'll excuse me, sir, you're generous to a fault. She was there all right, but by accident."
Ramage grinned. "I'll be more interested to hear how the Peacock talked her way into the convoy in the first place..."
"Haa!" Southwick snorted and waved towards the Lion. "Belike they'll have a good tale ready. And it wouldn't surprise me if we don't get involved in it; in return for saving his reputation, his High and Mightyship will somehow put the blame on us."
"Mr Southwick!" Ramage said reprovingly.
"Apologies, sir," the Master said hurriedly, realizing that Ramage wanted him to apologize because seamen nearby could have overheard his criticism of Admiral Goddard. "I'm sorry, that was a stupid remark."
An hour later, though, Southwick was more than ever convinced that the Admiral and his Flag Captain would make sure that none of the blame rested on their shoulders. He clattered down the companionway, acknowledged the Marine sentry's salute, and obeyed Ramage's invitation to come into the cabin.
"Flagship's just signalled, sir. You're wanted on board. The Captain of the Greyhound has just left the Lion."
Ramage patted the packet on the table. "I'm glad I stayed up late writing this. Have some coffee - there's some in that pot."
When Southwick shook his head, he added: "You ought to make the best of it while we are in the Caribbean: not often we get the real stuff!"
"Afraid I prefer my tea, sir; seems Frenchified, coffee."
Ramage looked up at him with pretended disapproval. "That sort of attitude won't make these planters rich - " he waved towards the chain of islands. "They depend on coffee, sugar and rum."
"The Navy's Board's a good customer for rum, anyway."
"It's just as well they are: I doubt the planters will ever lure the English away from their gin."
"The Admiral..." Southwick reminded him.
"Ah yes," Ramage said, with a flippancy he did not feel, "obviously a social invitation. He breakfasts later than I do."
He picked up the packet and reached for his hat and sword. "Well, Mr Southwick, if you'll heave-to the ship to windward of the flagship, I'll climb into my carriage and Jackson can drive me over to see the Admiral."
Rear-Admiral Goddard had been badly frightened and now he was furious. By contrast Croucher's thin face gave nothing away. Both men were trying to hide from Ramage that the attack on the Topaz was their main concern.
"Tell me again, Ramage: how did this begin?" Goddard said, tapping his knee with Ramage's report, which he had not yet opened.
"The ship's company had stood down from general quarters, sir," Ramage said. "I was on deck and looking casually round at the convoy with my night glass. I happened to glance at the Peacock just as she let fall her fore course."
"A great pity you hadn't seen her main course let fall," Goddard snapped.
"I did, sir; that was the movement that first attracted my attention. They were still bracing the yard round and sheeting home when I saw them set the fore course."
"We have only your word for that."
"Of course, sir," Ramage said, but couldn't resist adding quietly, "It's a pity we have no corroboration from the Greyhound ..."
Croucher glanced at him quickly and Goddard looked away, saying, "Then what did you do?"
"Sent a man aloft with a glass. He reported she was hauling her wind. She then came onto a course parallel with the convoy's and about fifty yards to windward."
"But you didn't see fit to inform me," Goddard said.
"No, sir," Ramage said flatly.
"Note that, Mr Croucher. The Admiral's not important enough, eh Ramage?"
"I didn't mean that, sir. If you were informed every time a ship of the convoy was out of position, you'd receive a hundred signals a day."
"But this was an unusual circumstance."
"It didn't seem so unusual at the time: no one knew she was anything but an ordinary merchantman."