Ramage and the Freebooters

'Is it simply practice?'

The surgeon was obviously 'torn between honesty and a wish to avoid hurting Southwick's feelings.

'Mostly, sir. There are certain basic situations you learn about and try to avoid—or create.'

'Trouble is, I haven't a good memory,' Southwick growled.

'Memory hasn't a lot to do with it, unless you want to use some of the stylized opening gambits. That makes for a dull game anyway.'

Ramage was interested now, having always complacently blamed his poor play on a notoriously bad memory.

'Come, Bowen! Surely a good memory is important.'

'No, sir,' the surgeon protested, 'That's a commonly held view but a wrong one, I'm afraid. I'd say the two most important factors are an eye to spot a trap, and the will to keep attacking.'

Southwick eyed Ramage. "You should be a champion, sir.'

'Yes,' Bowen said eagerly before an embarrassed Ramage could interrupt. 'From what I've heard you should be a first-class player and I'm surprised you're not.'

'There's not much 'time to play chess at sea...'

'No,' the surgeon admitted, 'but------'

'Yes, we've got time for a couple of games now. But I warn you, I'm hopeless. Southwick, you can act as a frigate—keep a weather eye open for enemy traps. You agree, Bowen?'

'Certainly, but I'm sure it won't be necessary.'

'I haven't played for a couple of years: I can barely remember the moves.'

Douglas, previously primed, moved forward with the chess board and an inlaid box containing the chessmen. Bowen opened the box, took out two pieces, juggled them in his hands beneath the table, then held them both up for Ramage to choose.

It was white, and they set up the board. Ramage remembered vaguely that advancing a king pawn two places was regarded as a good safe opening move and made it. After that, it was like trying to repel dozens of boarders single-handed in thick smoke. Despite Southwick watching every move, pointing out possible threats, Bowen's bishops, knights and rooks were everywhere and apparently doubled in numbers. Three of Ramage's pawns, a bishop, then a rook were dropped in the box as they were taken. A knight and the other bishop followed; Bowen had lifted the queen off the board and dropped it in the box and it was only when he moved his knight into her place that Ramage saw what had happened. Bowen had merely said 'Check' and, as Ramage went to move the king out of danger, added politely, 'I really do think it's checkmate, sir.'

'And it is, by God!' exclaimed Southwick. 'Well I...'

'Me too,' Ramage said ruefully. 'I'm glad we didn't have a guinea on that game.'

'I prefer not to play cards or chess for money, sir,' Bowen said. 'Makes for bad feeling if someone gets excited and turns what's supposed to be a game into something approaching a duel, with cash if not honour at stake. It doesn't improve the game, either.'

'Quite right,' Southwick rumbled. 'Quite right—hate to see it myself. What about another game—and you leave the queen and both bishops in the box.

Bowen hesitated and looked up at Ramage, who guessed he was thinking it was perhaps unwise to beat his captain too often.

'And a knight and a rook too!'

'I'm sure that won't be necessary,' the surgeon said, reassured. 'After all, I've been playing the game for...'

He broke off, embarrassed, but Southwick grinned, '... more years than the Captain's been born...'

'Well, yes, but I didn't------'

Ramage said, 'That gives me an excellent excuse for losing every game. Your first move, Bowen. Now, Southwick, keep a sharp lookout! If I ever become an admiral and command my own squadron, I'm getting more and more doubtful about letting you command a frigate!'

In nine moves Bowen looked up at Ramage, who said, ruefully, 'Don't bother to say it—checkmate!'

The third game lasted several more moves and Ramage was able to watch the surgeon. The hands still trembled but the eyes were clearer. The greyness of the skin had not quite gone but the face muscles had tightened up and the mouth did not hang open slackly. Clean -linen, stock neatly tied... And Bowen was alert; in fact a new man. It sounded a cliche but Ramage could think of no other description. Alert, decisive, and completely in control of both himself and the situation. His eyes would move across the board three or four times, then his hand would reach out and without a moment's hesitation move a piece with thumb and index finger (all too often lifting off one of Ramage's pieces with the ring and little finger at the same time) and he'd wait without fidgeting while Ramage tried to think up a counter-move, often aided by Southwick. When the game ended, Bowen, at Ramage's request, explained some of their worst mistakes. They seemed obvious enough—afterwards.

Finally the Master said: 'I'd better go and relieve the master's mate—he's had his watch stretched out. If you'll excuse me...'

Ramage nodded, but the surgeon made no move to leave.

Instead he put the chessmen back in the box and folded the board. For a moment Ramage wondered if he should make some remark, but Bowen, looking at the table top, said:

'This is the first day for more than three years...'

Ramage still said nothing, deciding it was best for Bowen to unburden himself if he wished, or keep silent.

'... I've wanted it,' God knows—but perhaps God has also given me the strength not to go to Southwick's cabin and beg...'

It took Ramage several moments to realize the significance of that single word 'beg'. Bowen had at last fully recovered his pride: to him, getting a drink now meant 'begging' one from the Master, whom he'd roundly beaten at chess and who----- '... Not just God, though... I think the last few days must have been just as bad for you and Southwick as for me...'

He was silent for a minute or two and Ramage said:

'Perhaps not in the way you are thinking We were only afraid we'd fail.'

'You mean that I would fail,' Bowen corrected gently.

'No, I think the first three days were up to us. After that it was up to you,'

'I only pray I can keep it up. But I'm not going to make you any promises, sir, and I hope you won't ask for them.' Ramage shook his head.

CHAPTER TEN

Southwick's last sight put the Triton roughly three hundred miles north-north-east of Barbados and he was reporting the fact to Ramage when the lookout in the foremast hailed the quarter-deck to report a sail lifting up over the horizon fine on the starboard bow.

The young master's mate, sent aloft with a telescope, was soon shouting excitedly that the ship had a strange rig and seemed to be steering to the north-west. Southwick growled his doubt—that would be the course of a ship bound from West Africa to round the northern Leeward Islands and then square away for America.

Then Appleby reported hesitantly, his voice revealing doubt, that she'd lost her mainmast, and a few moments later, this time with more certainty, that she was fore-and-aft rigged; probably a schooner which had lost her mainmast, because the only mast standing was too far forward for her to be a cutter.

Ramage had already ordered the quartermaster to steer a converging course, and as Southwick sent hands to sheets and braces, he called Jackson, ordering him aloft. Handing the American his telescope, he said: 'She might be a "black-birder".'

'Was thinking that m'self, sir: position's about right if she's staying outside the islands and bound for America.'

With that he ran forward and climbed the shrouds.

Southwick bent over the compass for the third time, grunting as he stood up.

'If she's making more than a couple of knots I'd be very surprised; her bearing's hardly changed.'

Bowen, who was standing near Southwick, said almost to himself, 'If she lost her mast some days ago she'll be in trouble.'

'Aye,' Southwick said heavily. 'Losing a mast is always trouble. Especially in these seas. She'll be rolling like a barrel—wind on the beam.'