Ramage and the Freebooters

'Probably,' Ramage said, cutting short the American's curiosity. 'Now, how are your lessons going?"

'Maxton says pretty fair, sir. He's softened up that goatskin for the tom-tom and we're using a butter firkin, not a cask. More like the real thing, so he says. It'll be ready in an hour or so.'

'You've got the rhythm right?'

'Yes—leastways, he reckons so, though it's difficult to tell with a Marine drum 'cos the skin's stretched differently.'

'Have you got out of Maxton what that signal was?'

'Yes. They don't beat out words or numbers apparently; just pre-arranged sort of tunes. They all have different meanings.'

'Right. Now listen carefully, Jackson. When you're next practising I want you to say something casually to Maxton. Just say it conversationally, and watch his reaction.'

'I follow, sir: catch him unawares.'

'Exactly. Now I think I know me name of the man who uses the tom-tom and we've got to catch Him, I don't know where he lives, but Maxton probably does. If he does know the man—and you'll have to judge that from his reaction-he's got to tell us. Tell you, preferably.'

'Leave it to me, sir,' Jackson said confidently. 'He's a good lad. Just that the witch doctor put the fear of—well, I don't know what—into him.'

'I understand. Now, this tom-tom fellow is called Josiah Fetch.'

Jackson repeated the name and left the cabin, saying his next lesson with Maxton was due at two o'clock.

Footsteps on the companion ladder and the clump of the Marine sentry's boots as he saluted warned Ramage that Southwick had at last finished his duties on deck.

As the old Master sat down in a chair, tossing his hat on to the settee and running his hand through his bushy white hair, Ramage was surprised how much had happened in the four hours or so he'd been away from the ship. As far as South-wick knew at present they were probably four hours spent drinking rum punches with Colonel Wilson or the Governor.

Briefly Ramage retailed the morning's events, omitting only the father-daughter relationship, and Southwick acknowledged the various episodes with a nod of his head. When Ramage had finished Southwick said slowly:

'Glad you weren't out of practice with that knife of yours, sir. But now this butler's dead we've—well, reached a dead end!'

'As you say, a dead end.'

'Looks as though we'll have to let another schooner sail and shadow her with the Triton, or send off a false signal and hope they take the bait, sailing the Triton instead of a schooner.'

'That'll never work. You know how me privateer schooner can work up to windward. Apart from that, we'd be spotted sailing: the butler, gardener and drummer can't be the only ones involved.'

Southwick sighed. 'I knew there was a catch in all this— told you so, didn't I, sir? As soon as I heard those two frigate captains had failed and you'd been given the job I knew the Admiral was up to something.'

'You don't think I imagined he was selecting me for pro motion do you?' Ramage said sourly.

'Did that Colonel have any ideas, sir?'

'I didn't ask him—hardly his field. All he contributed was a Trojan horse.'

'What do we want horses for?'

Ramage looked so puzzled that Southwick added hurriedly, 'Sorry, sir, is it some special sort of horse?'

Ramage laughed and began to tell Southwick the legend. Suddenly he broke off. 'I'll tell you the rest some other time —I've just remembered something. Have the jolly boat manned—I'll be on shore for a couple of hours.'

*

Wilson was at first sceptical of Ramage's plan because of the danger it involved: it was impossible to guess the odds against Ramage and his men, he protested, but likely they'd be at least three to one.

'Always assume the odds'll be greater than you expect— you'll never be disappointed,' he warned.

But apart from the heavy odds, he finally agreed the plan was for the moment the only possibility. Like Ramage, he was disappointed that Claire de Giraud had no idea where the privateers were based except that it was at one of the islands to the north.

Surprisingly, Wilson had agreed with Ramage that of all the ship-owners to choose, Rondin was the most trustworthy, as well as being the most intelligent. Ramage was even more surprised when Wilson advised that Rondin should be brought to the Fort, instead of Ramage visiting the man's house.

'We don't know who our enemies are,' Wilson declared. 'If anyone sees you going to Rondin's house, who knows what they can guess? But he's in the country today. I'll arrange it for tomorrow morning.'

*

Next morning Wilson's carriage brought a puzzled Rondin to the Fort. He listened attentively as Ramage began by telling him the schooner that sailed two nights earlier had almost certainly been captured.

'I'm not surprised,' he commented. 'The owner was a fool to make the Governor persuade you, and to do it in the midst of a ball... Now, you want ass to do something?'

Ramage liked his direct manner. He did not ask questions; merely listened to what was said, as if sensing he was being told all he needed to know. When Ramage finished outlining what he wanted of the ship-owner, Rondin shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

'You're doing me an honour: to show you trust a man these days is to honour him. But schooners are expensive, and if this one is lost------'

'She's insured,' Wilson interrupted. 'And if we don't catch these blasted privateers you'll probably lose her anyway—and others.'

Rondin nodded. 'She's insured all right, though I imagine the underwriters would quibble if she was lost through being involved in Lord Ramage's plan. Still, that's not why I'm hesitating.'

'Why, then?' Ramage asked.

'I'm a rich man, my Lord. I could lose half a dozen uninsured schooners without worrying too much... No, I'm more worried about you and your men.'

'Me and my men?'

'One doesn't become a successful plantation-owner and ship-owner, my Lord, without weighing up odds and taking a long view. Sometimes I've found it worth taking a short-term loss to make a long-term gain. But you naval officers rarely have the choice: when you sight the enemy you have only two alternatives—to attack or not—and only a matter of minutes to decide.'

Wilson interrupted: 'All that's obvious, if you don't mind me saying so, Mr Rondin.'

'Of course, my dear Colonel; I'm merely mentioning it as a preface to explaining my reluctance.'

Ramage was beginning to share Wilson's impatience.

'If you're reluctant, Mr Rondin, then I can only ask that you keep secret everything you've heard here this morning and we'll approach someone else.'

'You misunderstand me, my Lord: I'm reluctant, but I'm certainly not refusing.'

'Come on, Rondin, explain yourself,' growled Wilson.

'I'll address my remarks to you, Colonel, to avoid embarrassing this young man. You'll remember Admiral Robinson sent two frigates which sailed up and down for a couple of months ... ?'

'Yes, I remember well enough.'

'Well, without meaning any disrespect to the Royal Navy, we still lost schooners. But the two captains were dull-witted men. They regarded their task—at first, anyway—as a simple one. But as the weeks went by with no success, they just regarded themselves as unlucky. They didn't realize it wasn't simple; they didn't revise their original view...'

'Go on, go on,' Wilson said impatiently.

'Very well, I think we can agree they were stupid men. But then we were lucky enough to be sent Lord Ramage who realized from the start it wasn't an easy task because he has the imagination the others lacked. He has moral courage—more than enough, from what I hear—to stand up to his Excellency...'

Rondin had a habit of tailing off his sentences, his voice dropping and giving the impression to his listeners that they had gone deaf.