Ramage and the Freebooters

'Oh, I say—you can hardly walk out on the Governor like that!'

'Can't I, sir! The safety of the schoo------'

He broke off as the butler knocked and entered the room. Ramage glanced questioningly at Wilson, who nodded.

'Please have the Colonel's carriage brought to the door.'

The butler looked startled, knowing they were waiting for the Governor, so Ramage added, 'At once.'

The man left the room quickly and Ramage grinned at Wilson. 'I'll lay a guinea to a penny the Governor'll be here inside two minutes.'

'Not taken.'

It was a little over two minutes before the door opened again and Sir Jason walked in. If the cartoonist Gillray had drawn a skinny, defrocked parson who'd just inherited a wardrobe of clothes from a rich uncle weighing twenty pounds more, the result would have borne a remarkable likeness to His Excellency the Governor of Grenada.

He was, Ramage reflected, a man who must drive his tailor mad because Nature obviously intended that Sir Jason's physique should be a dreadful warning of what could happen to a man who worried continually.

And he had a most extraordinary gait, swinging his left arm in time with his left leg. Now his right hand was tucked inside his frock coat, as if to reassure himself his heart was still beating.

Surprisingly enough his face was almost plump—a lump of dough ready for baking and waiting to go into the oven— and from which protruded a thin, surprisingly pointed nose which twitched continuously and tiny, closely-spaced eyes glanced about with suspicious restlessness.

At their first brief meeting half an hour ago Ramage thought that the nose twitched to the left as the eyes glanced to the right, and to the right as His Excellency looked left, but he now saw this had been sheer chance. And clearly Sir Jason was a man with few friends and an overly-timid wife, because they'd all failed to warn him never to smile: when he did his narrow lips vanished, lifting like curtains to reveal a set of uneven, yellowed teeth that looked more suited to a horse trying to spit out the bit between his teeth. 'Ah—Wilson, my Lord, I'm sorry to have kept you: I'm sure you people never appreciate how busy is the life of a Governor,' he said.

'But I certainly do, your Excellency,' Ramage said uncompromisingly. 'In fact only a moment ago I remarked to Colonel Wilson how unfair it was to take up your time with idle gossip and rang for our carriage.'

The lips, which had momentarily unfolded, drew back again.

'Gossip? Gossip?' he exclaimed in his whining voice. 'Who wants to gossip? I've no time for gossip.' 'Quite, your Excellency,' Ramage said politely. 'So if you'll excuse------'

'But you've only just arrived!'

Ramage took out his watch with deliberate slowness and pressed the top so the front sprang open. After looking carefully at the face he shut it and, replacing it in his pocket, said nothing.

The Governor swung his left arm, nonplussed. 'Well—I er... Well, Colonel Wilson, you, er...' The Colonel glanced up, startled, having been absorbed in admiration for what Ramage had just done. Obviously the Governor had expected that the two officers had come to Government House within an hour of the Triton's arrival to make an official report and get his approval for their future plans.

After deliberately keeping them waiting to show his importance, he'd just been completely deflated to find they were apparently paying only a social call, and complaining how busy he was now led them both to hurry away to avoid wasting his time with 'idle gossip'.

Very neat, Wilson thought. Ramage had said nothing that could offend His Excellency; nevertheless Sir Jason was now in the humiliating position of not only having to ask what was going on, but since Wilson had told him of Ramage's authority as 'Senior naval officer upon the Station', risking being snubbed as well.

'Your Excellency...?' Wilson prompted.

'Oh—well, won't you stay for a drink? And you, my Lord—surely you can spare ten minutes?'

Wilson glanced at the Lieutenant, unwilling to spoil any move, and Ramage said politely: 'You'll forgive us if we make it just ten minutes, your Excellency? We have a lot to do.'

'Of course, of course.'

He shambled across the room, removed his right hand from where it recorded his heart beat, and used it to tug the bell pull so violently that the long strip of red silk braid tore in half six feet above his hand, the tasselled end dropping back across his face.

'Damnation!' he snorted, pulling it away. 'The tropics! Everything just rots in the heat and damp!'

'I wonder if the bell rang, sir?' Ramage inquired innocently.

Sir Jason hauled his lips apart in a brave smile.

'I'm sure it did—rang it so loudly the clapper's probably broken!'

Ramage smiled but Wilson, fascinated by the Lieutenant's easy grace, just watched the two men. However, he realized that Sir Jason was learning extremely quickly and, shying from Ramage, he turned to him.

'You are coming to my ball this evening, I trust, Colonel?'

'Of course, your Excellency—social occasion of the year, what?'

'So nice of you to say so, Colonel. I trust the orchestra has been rehearsing.'

'Of course sir,' Wilson assured him. 'The bandmaster's had 'em hard at it for the past fortnight—since you gave the order.'

'And Colonel... I really do hope none of them get drunk again: it was so distressing last year and—oh, Lord Ramage, I've just realized you haven't received an invitation! You sailed so quickly and I had no idea when you would return.

'The Governor's Annual Ball is tonight—and you've just heard Colonel Wilson call it the social occasion of the year. Can I persuade you to leave your ship for a few hours?'

Ramage, thinking hard from the moment the Governor first mentioned it, realized it was a good opportunity to meet the island's leading people. And the drunker they were, he thought grimly, the more he'd learn.

He bowed slightly, 'I'm honoured, your Excellency.'

'At seven, then?'

'Thank you, your Excellency,' and he seized the opportunity to add. 'Since the invitation is unexpected and time so short, you'll forgive me if I return to the ship at once and make myself ready? There are several things I must do. Colonel Wilson...?'

'Me too,' said the Colonel, hauling himself up from the chair. 'Hadn't realized how the time had gone.'

'Please don't rush away,' the Governor protested, irritated to find that almost every remark he made was taken as an end of the visit.

Again Ramage smiled. 'Duty calls, sir: while neither of us bear the responsibilities that your Excellency does, our masters in Whitehall...'

'Quite—indeed, I understand. Until this evening, then.'

With that they took their farewell, and as the carriage clattered down the hill, Wilson said: 'Well, that went off better than I expected!'

Ramage laughed like a happy schoolboy who'd just evaded a beating from the headmaster. 'The credit's all yours, sir.'

'Mine?' Wilson shook his head.

'You discovered we had an ace—the "Senior naval officer upon the Station"—and his Excellency had to think of a way of making sure I didn't play it.'

Wilson remained silent until the carriage reached the Careenage, where one of the Triton's boats waited, and then he said unexpectedly:

'Have you ever thought who our worst enemies are in a war?'

'Yes,' Ramage said promptly. 'Politicians seeking cheap victories to announce in Parliament—cheap in terms of money but usually costly in lives. Then bureaucrats—among them colonial governors. Then aged generals and admirals who should have retired long ago but hold on to power 'Because their pride won't let them miss a chance of glory, even if they lose the battle. There are a few more. The French come about tenth on my list, the Spanish about fifteenth!'

Wilson gave the first real laugh Ramage had heard from him: a laugh that began well below the highly-polished leather belt struggling to hold in his stomach and rumbled and fought its way up to his throat.