His accent was perfect He must have lived in France before the war - no foreigner could speak French like a Frenchman without living in France. The accent of Paris. In Lyon he would pass for a Parisian, Bazin was sure of that. But ruse?
'What ruse, milord?' There was the damned 'milord' again: it seemed so natural when talking to him, but he must guard his tongue against it.
The flags, M. Bazin. But I am sure you know perfectly well that it is a legitimate ruse de guerre to fly another flag as long as it is lowered and one's own flag hoisted before opening fire.'
Bazin was puzzled. 'Yes, of course. We always do it when we sight an English merchant ship, or a privateer.'
'You do? So you have no ill - feelings about me doing it?'
Ill - feelings? What is he talking about? Bazin knew it was his own fault that he had not grasped the significance of the Calypso's Tricolour coming down at the run. He shrugged his shoulders. And this milord was smiling, as though pleased. Bazin felt less chilly, but wondered if all this polite talk was not the prelude to another trap, another pat at the mouse by the cat's paw before the end came in a flurry of pain and blood.
'La Perle was a few hours late in leaving Aruba, M. Bazin?'
What a curious question. 'Several hours. In fact we nearly didn't leave at all.'
'Oh. Why was that?'
The leak, of course. Touching that reef made it a lot worse.
The captain waited for some time before we left to make sure the pumps could hold it'
'And they could, of course.'
'Only just, but there was no point in waiting in Aruba because we couldn't careen there to make repairs. Curacao is the nearest safe place - and of course it would have to be to windward. That's why Captain Duroc was not going to stop for you - but he was curious when you made the signal.'
The milord was looking at him strangely now. He was leaning forward slightly in the chair that he had twisted round to face the settee. 'You had all your pumps going?'
'Oh yes - chain pump, deck wash pumps and men with buckets. Every available man took his turn.'
'And you were just holding the leak.'
'Yes, just. It was getting no worse, thank goodness. If only we could have reached Curacao we'd have saved her.' '
The milord stood up slowly and walked out through the door, and the Marine sentry came into the cabin to guard him. He heard the milord's shoes clattering up the companionway. He had gone to arrange for the firing squad. He will not bother to question Roget or the third lieutenant. He would bother to question only the man who had been commanding La Perle (admittedly very briefly).
Bazin was proud that, with the firing squad only minutes away, he had kept control of himself and told this milord nothing. Nothing except that they were going to Curacao, and that was obvious enough to anyone who saw which way the ship was heading.
A few minutes later the milord came back again and the sentry left the cabin. The milord still had this pleasant smile on his face; the smile the cat has as it plays with the mouse. However, no aristo was going to fool Jean - Pierre Bazin with a smile.
The privateers are waiting for you in Curacao, M. Bazin.'
This is an obvious trap. 'Are they, milord?'
'I saw ten of them a few days ago. Perhaps more have arrived by now.'
'Very interesting, milord. There might be fifty, then.' That would worry him, Bazin knew. 'But they can get on quite well without La Perle, because we did not intend to call there. Not until we sprang this leak, rather.'
'Forgive my ignorance about all this, M. Bazin: I did not have time to talk to Captain Duroc.'
Look at those eyes: Bazin now knew what an assassin looked like. He had large brown eyes, the son that would fool a woman like Roget's wife, and they were sunk deep below bushy brows, and he smiled such a friendly but false smile. No, milord had not bothered to talk to Duroc before murdering him, so he did not know that Duroc was making a desperate rush to get to Curacao to careen the ship in the hope of finding the leak. No one was very optimistic, though; the whole garboard seam on the starboard side was leaking, and it seemed the entire transom was working loose because all the butt ends of the planks were weeping, although the caulking was still in the seams. The carpenter was puzzled and Duroc was frightened and he - ah, a chain pump had just started working somewhere this very moment because he could hear the distant clank - and - thump. And running water, like a distant stream. Now the clank of a head pump, and a second one has just started up. And a third and fourth, which was strange because La Perle had only two.
The milord was speaking again; something about La Perle working with the privateers. It was hard to concentrate, worrying about that leak, and he repeated the question.
'Does La Perle really not work with the privateers at Curacao?'
Did this milord, this rosbif cretin, really think that lieutenant de vaisseau Bazin was going to give away secrets? 'No, she does not.' Nor did she, but there was no point in giving the enemy information.
This patrol of La Perle's, M. Bazin - might one ask if you were co-operating with the Spanish or the Dutch?'
'With neither.' That would puzzle him. This evil man could not imagine that La Perle was on an ordinary patrol, having arrived in Martinique from France with dispatches and being sent on a patrol of the eastern end of la mer des Antilles on her way back to France. But La Perle had first begun to leak a few days after leaving Brest; they had pumped her across the Atlantique to Fort de France; they had careened her there and the caulkers had hammered away at their cotton and the pitch had been heated and poured. And the leaks were stopped, but Duroc, always anxious to please and always impatient, had left for the patrol and for France without trials, and the leaks had started again the minute the frigate had sailed beyond the lee of the islands and reached the full strength of the Trades. Why Duroc called at Aruba no one knew, and the reef they hit was not shown on the chart - or, rather, it was shown with more water over it, but more coral must have grown. Anyway, the leak was now twice as bad, and the nearest careenage was Curacao. However, you know nothing about all that, milord aristo.
Ramage found that after five minutes' conversation with Bazin he felt grubby. The man had a face which was startlingly like a weasel's; his manner, way of talking, and probably his way of thinking was the same. No doubt he was quick to pounce and bully or kill a weaker animal; but he was ingratiating when in the company of a stronger. And a fool, too; he had seen the Tricolour being hauled down, leaving only a British ensign flying, and he had thought nothing of it.
Out of curiosity it might be worth talking to the other two French lieutenants, just to find out their view of Citizen Bazin, but Ramage felt he could guess. And now Bazin was below again, under Marine guard, and no doubt quite certain that he had told the rosbif captain nothing . . .
Ramage went up on deck again and found both Aitken and Southwick waiting for him, shamefaced and looking like naughty schoolboys caught red - handed.
'I'm sorry, sir,' Aitken said. 'Southwick and the carpenter were just going on board her when you came up and told us about the leak, but - '