Five minutes later, after protests from Southwick, he handed him the telescope. 'They're on board. I can just imagine the look on Teniente Pareja's face as he describes what happened. Right, if the gig's ready it's time for me to join them.'
'Let me go, sir!'
'Please, Mr. Southwick, don't let's go into all that again. Apart from anything else, you don't speak Spanish and you'd probably miss some significant remark.'
'Aye aye, sir,' the Master said with as much disapproval in his voice as he dare express.
The crew were already in the gig as Ramage climbed down. Suddenly he realized that with the Spaniards' boat already alongside the frigate and the Kathleen's only remaining boat going alongside in a few minutes, the Spaniards could (if they thought of it) capture both and by risking their captain's life scupper his only weapon, the explosion boat.
'Mr. Southwick,' he called. 'I want a dozen more men. I'll send the gig straight back and bring the Spanish officers over in their own boat.'
A group of Spanish officers were waiting at the gangway for them to come on board, but Jackson put the gig neatly alongside the other boat and, with Ramage and the dozen extra seamen, leapt in, leaving the gig to drift clear and row back to the Kathleen.
The whole manoeuvre had taken place so smoothly and quickly that Ramage knew the Spaniards had either been taken by surprise or had not realized the importance of boats. Lieutenant Pareja was waiting for him as he reached the gangway, followed by Jackson.
As the Spaniard began his long formal greeting he gingerly removed his hat, revealing a plaster stuck on the crown of his head. His face was white and he winced in pain as, his bow completed, he stood upright again. Even as he winced he saw the scar over Ramage's brow was now a white slash against the tan, as if the skin was too taut, and the eyebrows were drawn into a straight line. Then he looked into the deep set eyes.
Since Pareja's voice had trailed off for no apparent reason, Ramage said icily, 'You broke your parole.'
'Sir! How can you suggest...'
'You broke your parole, and there is no basis for discussion. Please present your officers to me.'
Pareja shrugged his shoulders and called to a small group standing by the wheel. They came at once, four young men with barely a couple of years' difference in their ages, and lined themselves up like nervous schoolboys, although Ramage knew they were all about his own age. He was careful to stand three or four paces from them to avoid any handshaking, and Pareja introduced them as the second, third, fourth and junior lieutenants and each bowed in turn.
'And the Master?'
Pareja waved to an unshaven man, perhaps five feet tall but looking more like a weather-stained barrel with legs. Ramage turned to catch Jackson's eye, glancing meaningfully at the pistol tucked in the American's belt and then at Pareja, who missed the byplay.
While the Spanish Master waddled over, resentment, hatred and contempt showing in his face, Jackson moved casually so that he was standing a couple of paces behind Pareja.
As the Master was introduced Ramage knew he could not be left on board. He too would have to be a prisoner; he was obviously a tough, brutal man and capable of any treachery or crime that came into his greasy head. In his place Ramage decided to leave the fourth lieutenant, a willowy and weak-faced youth, foppish in his manner and obviously someone who had more 'interest' at Court than interest in seamanship.
Ramage turned to Pareja.
'With the exception of this gentleman,' he said in English, pointing to the fourth lieutenant, 'you will all go into the boat at once.'
Pareja, dumbfounded by the unexpected order, stared at Ramage, and then stuttered, 'But... but...'
'Translate the order, please.'
'No, I refuse'
Ramage looked at Jackson over the Spaniard's shoulder and nodded.
The muzzle of the American's pistol pressed into the back of Pareja's neck. He stood as if paralysed and Jackson, with a neatly timed sense of the dramatic, cocked the pistol so that Pareja must have felt the click all the way down his spine. Ramage could see beads of perspiration on the man's forehead and upper lip, but because he looked as though he would remain silent, Ramage suddenly snapped out the order in Spanish himself. The suddenness of Jackson's movement and Ramage's unexpected ability to speak Spanish sent the second, third and junior lieutenants walking to the break in the bulwark, but the Master stood firm.
'You, too,' Ramage said.
'No, I stay.'
Ramage was determined not to argue; but he did not want to spend life unnecessarily, so he turned to Pareja with what he hoped was a ruthless expression on his face, at the same time drawing his own pistol and pointing it at the Master.
Speaking in Spanish he said coldly, 'Lieutenant, until yesterday I did not know you existed. Today I do not care whether you exist or not. The same applies to this man. If he does not get into the boat I shall kill you both. It is a matter of no consequence or significance to me or my plans, so please yourself whether or not you give him a lawful order as his senior officer; it is his last chance - and yours, too.'
Pareja now looked as if he would faint before he had a chance to speak: Jackson was pressing the muzzle of the pistol so firmly into his neck he was having to brace himself to avoid being forced to take an undignified pace forward. Finally he whispered to the Master:
'Do as you are told. Get into the boat'
The Master seemed about to disobey, but after glancing at the muzzle of Ramage's pistol and then at his eyes, he shuffled after the others. Ramage then spoke to the fourth lieutenant, standing by himself and obviously scared at having been singled out.
'You are now appointed temporarily in command of La Sabina. You will follow in my ship's wake, day and night. Burn three lights at night, as before. Make sure your men steer carefully. Don't make any mistakes. The first one you make will cause the death of the Master - you'll see his body float past. Then the junior, third, second and first lieutenants. Your sixth will send your captain to perdition. You understand?'
The man nodded, unable to speak.
Ramage motioned Jackson to remove his pistol and Pareja walked to the bulwark.
'You are a barbarian,' he half whispered in English. 'No better than a pirate.'
'You flatter me,' said Ramage coldly, enjoying himself in his temporary role and hard put to stop laughing, and he could not resist adding, 'My pastime is murder. Legally, you understand; it must be done legally - that's half the fun. That's why I enjoy war - don't you? After all, His Most Catholic Majesty declared war on us. We didn't start it, you know. We are just heretics - you remember how your priests used to burn us to save our souls? Since you've shut the gates of Heaven to us we're eternally damned and have nothing to lose. But you, why, if I kill you, you are bound to go to Heaven - aren't you...?'
CHAPTER NINE
Ramage looked through the telescope with as much nonchalance as he could muster, forcing himself not to rub his brow as he put the telescope down. Instead, he picked some fluff off the sleeve of his jacket.
The two ships whose sails were now lifting over the horizon to the north-east were frigates, probably out ahead of the Spanish Fleet, though the ludicrous mirage effect which made them appear upside down also made it hard to identify them.
But a few minutes after being sighted by the Kathleen's lookouts they'd altered course towards the cutter, each diverging slightly, so that if Ramage cast off the tow and ran either could cut him off. They obviously had more wind up there and were probably bringing it down with them.
Ramage's face was slack with weariness; his bloodshot eyes seemed sunken now, rather than deep-set. Yet he was freshly shaven, his uniform newly pressed, and without seeing his face one might have thought him an elegant young officer on board a flagship at anchor at Spithead.