Ramage and the drum beat

Gianna said in Italian, and it made her voice more intimate. 'We haven't much more time together, caro mio...'

Ramage was startled because he had not seen her and said without thinking, 'No, I'm afraid not,' then added quickly, 'don't worry - you'll probably be rescued again before they get into port. They're bound to be intercepted.'

'Shall we be left alive to be captured?'

It wasn't really a question, and she said it so simply that for a moment he missed its significance.

'We don't fight,' he said almost harshly.

'Why not? Or let's use the hostages. Why not threaten to kill them unless the two ships let us go - we can make a bargain and leave them the wrecked ship.'

'My dear,' he said gently, 'we can't.'

'Why? Why not?' she asked fiercely.

'Because - well, we can't murder prisoners. And we'd have to if they called our bluff.'

'Why can't we? It's war. You once gave us a long lecture about how we Tuscans let Napoleon walk through our country without fighting. Now you have the faint heart. Don't forget the Spanish officers broke their word of honour and sent men with knives to try to murder us last night!'

There must be an answer but he was too weary to think of it, and she added, 'If they capture Antonio and me, we shall be executed.'

'You won't! They've no idea who you are.'

'They'll guess. The Spanish captain heard a sentry use my title this morning. I saw the look on his face.'

And this, Ramage thought to himself savagely, is what happens when you gamble. Capturing La Sabinahadn't really been a gamble - he'd been reasonably certain the explosion boat bluff would work because he knew enough of the Spanish mind to be sure of the outcome. But he'd thought no farther than having La Sabinasafely in tow astern of the Kathleen; he hadn't thought of the consequences. In halving the Kathleen's speed he'd doubled the time for the voyage to Gibraltar, and that doubled the chances of being intercepted. And doubled the chances that Gianna and Antonio would end up on a French guillotine.

Gianna glimpsed the agony in his mind and touched his arm.

'Nico - neither Antonio nor I would have changed anything that's happened, anything, do you understand?'

He was too distraught to answer for a moment and she said fiercely, 'Nico - I talked with Antonio. You were right - we now realize we Tuscans did let that Napoleon walk over our land. But you've given us the will and the chance to regain our pride. We're proud, Nico - proud of the Kathleen, of you, of all those men, and proud of ourselves. Antonio asks only one thing - that we fight those two ships. He'll be killed, but we'd die anyway - the French would see to that. We've nothing to lose. Except,' she added quietly, 'for you and me. We lose each other. So, caro mio, if it's your duty to fight then ...'

Then, Ramage said bitterly to himself, let's all die in the coffin that Lieutenant Ramage has so carelessly constructed. His eyes were fixed on the tight spiral of metal that was the elevating screw of a carronade. If he surrendered without a fight, the Kathleens would rot in a Spanish prison and Gianna and Antonio would end up on a French guillotine. There was no choice. He swung round to the Master and called, 'Mr. Southwick, clear the ship for action!'

Southwick rubbed his hands as he bellowed the order, not waiting for the bosun's mate to pipe it first. Not content with that he went to the hatchways and bawled down each of them in turn.

As soon as he returned aft, Ramage said, 'Double the sentries over the prisoners. Warn 'em if they move an inch they'll be shot. Have we any musketoons on board? If so, see the sentries have them, and make sure they understand my orders.'

'Aye, aye, sir!'

Antonio came over, grinning happily and tugging his beard.

'So we fight after all, Nico!'

'Yes.'

'Good. I was afraid you'd ...' he stopped, embarrassed. 'For the best possible reasons...'

Ramage laughed. 'Antonio - you worry more about my reputation than your own neck.'

'My neck keeps getting caught up in your reputation,' Antonio retorted. 'And this time I join in the battle, whatever you say!'

Men were running along the deck, placing sponges and rammers ready beside the carronades, undoing the canvas aprons protecting the flintlocks and snapping them to make sure the flints were sparking well. Others were flinging buckets of water over the deck and sprinkling more sand. And Ramage sensed every man knew that this time it was a fight to the death; a fact and not an empty phrase, and he was humbled by their cheerfulness. They were too busy to dwell on what might have been; too busy for morbid thoughts.

Jackson, standing to one side, coughed discreetly until Ramage was sufficiently irritated to look at him.

'Wondered if I might borrow the "bring-em-near" for a moment, sir.'

Ramage gave him the telescope and within a few seconds the American was scrambling up the ratlines.

Then Ramage went below, put his secret papers in the lead-weighted box which had holes drilled in it so that it would sink quickly, brought it up and put it by the binnacle, warning the quartermaster to keep an eye on it. By then Jackson was coming down from aloft. With a grin on his thin face and waving the telescope with one hand as he ran the fingers of the other through his thin, sandy hair, he trode across the deck.

'Beg pardon, sir, but I'm pretty sure of the two frigates.'

'Well, out with it, man, who are they?'

'I'm positive one's the Heroine, sir. I was in her for six months. Or she's one of that class. The other - the one to windward - is the Apollo.'

'You're absolutely sure?'

'Yes, sir.'

It made sense. Both ships were in Sir John Jervis's squadron. Ramage saw Gianna was looking at him, a curious yet happy look in her eye.

In Italian she murmured, 'So we'll share another sunset.'

Antonio heard and growled. 'To the devil with your sentimental sunsets. Once again I miss my own personal naval battle. Nico, you might ask if I can transfer to one of the frigates; to the one commanded by the most bloodthirsty captain. Otherwise what tale shall I have to tell my grandchildren about how I fought in the Royal Navy?'

Captain Henry Usher, commanding His Majesty's frigate Apollo, was a large, ruddy-faced and cheerful man with a ready laugh, and as senior of the two captains sat in his cabin listening to Ramage's story with open admiration.

'Explosion boat! By Jove, a splendid idea! That accounts for it!'

Ramage looked puzzled and Usher explained, 'When you hove in sight we recognized the frigate as Spanish but couldn't think how you'd managed to capture her, so we suspected the Dons were setting some sort of trap for us. By Jove, and not a bit of paint scratched on your own ship. By the way, you have your orders with you?'

Ramage gave him the folded paper signed by Commodore Nelson and as he read a new interest showed in Usher's face.

'This Marchesa - is she old?'

Ramage said warily, 'She's fairly young, sir.'

'And pretty, no doubt?'

'Fairly sir, but a tiresome woman. Never satisfied with anything - always grumbling. You know the type ...'

'And this Count Pitti?'

'Cousin of the Marchesa, sir. A chaperon,’ he added hopefully, 'he never lets her out of his sight.'

'Yes - well,' Usher handed back the orders to Ramage, 'since the Commodore places such importance on the safety of your passengers and they're cramped in the Kathleen, I'll take them on board the Apollo. They'll be more comfortable, and safer, too - the Dons are out in force.