A mirror hung on the bulkhead, although Silkin knew well enough that Ramage always shaved without a mirror, a habit picked up as a lieutenant when frequently there was not enough light in a tiny cabin. Ramage rinsed the razor, wiped the blade and then closed it Shaving was a relaxing activity.
One glance at the mirror to make sure no flecks of lather remained in the ears or nostrils (he was always irritated when he saw it in other men) and he turned to the clothes, laid out neatly on the top of his cot, and began dressing.
Pulling on silk clothing after a leisurely wash and shave . .. he was thankful he had enough money to afford it, though officers who wore silk shirts in the Tropics instead of the linen on which he insisted for himself were silly fellows: a hot evening meant that the silk stuck to the body like a coating of glue.
Finally he tied his stock and Silkin was ready with his frock coat, shoes, sword and hat, and the news that he had passed the word to the first lieutenant that the captain would be ready in five minutes. One of the advantages of being the captain was that you were never kept waiting; by tradition the senior officer was the last in and first out of a boat Governor van Someren was in a cheerful mood, anxious to hear from Ramage the details of the capture of the privateers. He had sympathized with Aitken that the first lieutenant had to stay on board during the operation, listened carefully when Ramage had Wagstaffe explain how he and his men had boarded over the stern of the Nuestra Senora, and been startled when Kenton gave a hilarious description of the cutter disintegrating. '
Van Someren called over his wife and daughter and made Kenton repeat the story, and they laughed until Maria discovered men had been killed and wounded. Then she turned to Ramage and asked how they could laugh over such a tragic episode.
The question was completely unexpected and Ramage took a few moments to realize that she had misunderstood both Kenton and the attitude of all the Britons. 'We are not laughing at the tragedy. We are laughing because at one moment Mr Kenton is sitting on a thwart - on a seat - in the boat, and the next moment he is sitting in the sea.'
'Yes - but some of his men were smashed to pieces. Why do you laugh at that?'
'We were not laughing at that; we knew them all very well.'
Then that is far worse,' Maria persisted, tears beginning in her eyes. 'You are so ruthless. Dead men cannot fight and cannot be of any more use to you, so you laugh, but they have mothers and wives and sweethearts who will weep for them.'
"We are not laughing at them, ma'am,' Kenton said, obviously very upset at her accusation. 'We - well, as the captain said, we were laughing at me!'
'But all round you in the sea was the blood of the dead and wounded . . .'
Ramage wanted to end the conversation: this kind of reasoning brought back memories which for years he had struggled to drive away: of friends, of men he liked, and even men he disliked, who had died round him in battle, lingeringly or instantly, bloodily or unmarked, silently or screaming in agony.
'Madam,' he said, making little effort to keep a chill out of his voice, 'we laugh to avoid weeping. Today some of our men were killed. We knew them and we grieve, but inwardly. We don't wail and tear our hair. Tomorrow fifty might be killed, and a hundred the day after. Are we to weep for every one of them? Are we to weep because fifty of us might be killed on the third day? I might be dead tomorrow, Kenton and Baker the day after, and then Aitken. If we thought too much about it we would never sleep, we'd never be able to look at each other without bursting into tears. But we have a war to fight so each of us hopes he is immortal, laughs when he can and mourns in his own way when he must.'
Maria was angry now, the hint of tears gone and the skin of her face tautening to give her a beauty which was absent when her features were in repose. 'It is all very well for you to speak thus,' she snapped, 'but you are the captain! These young men risk their lives while you just give them their orders, and stay safely in your own ship.'
Ramage smiled in agreement and gave a slight bow which, he hoped, would end the conversation, but Aitken's Scots voice said quietly: 'I haven't served with His Lordship long, ma'am, but he's been wounded twice to my knowledge - look at the scars over his right eye - and has done things that make men like me tremble even to think about And,' he added, giving the words the broadness that only the Scottish accent allowed, 'today he was nearer death than any of us who lived.' Maria stared at Aitken, obviously disbelieving him. 'You defend your captain - as indeed you should.'
'Aye, madam, because he won't be bothered to defend himself against what - if you'll forgive my presumption - is a very ill - informed attack. I'm a simple naval officer not used to Governors' palaces, so I'm wrong in speaking out like this, but I canna stand here and listen to you talking about the captain staying behind and giving orders.'
'But he does!' Maria snapped. 'Mr Wagstaffe has just told us how he boarded the French schooner over the stem.'
Rennick grunted in protest and Wagstaffe had none of Aitken's shyness. 'Madam,' he said sharply, 'the first person to board that schooner was the captain. He climbed through a gun port at the bow. You probably don't know what a gun port is but you know the fortresses here. It was as if he climbed the wall and went through one of the embrasures so that he was standing right in front of the muzzle of a gun which was just about to fire.'
'It didn't though,' she said bitterly. 'He's alive but the other men are dead.'
The gun did not fire because Mr Ramage had time to kill the gunner the moment before it fired.' 'So four men died today, not three!' she exclaimed. Before anyone had time to react, Kenton, his cheeks flaming with anger, took a step towards her and said angrily: 'Yes, and nearly five - Mr Ramage. Would that have satisfied you, ma'am? The French' may be your allies but they're our enemies. They killed three of our men today, not Mr Ramage.' He stopped and Ramage was just about to order his officers to change the subject when Wagstaffe said: 'Madam - that schooner has a Spanish name, the Nuestra Senora de Antigua. You are sorry that Mr Ramage shot one of her seamen, but I can tell you that every man on board the Calypso would volunteer - aye, would be proud - to hang every Frenchman that normally serves in her. Hang them, or cut their throats. Some of them - and that includes me - would like to kill them even more slowly. Especially her captain - 1 could take a week to kill him: Maria stared at Wagstaffe contemptuously. 'So you are a - a hired assassin; that's what you've just admitted!'
Wagstaffe turned to Ramage, a questioning look in his eye. 'Can I tell her what I saw, sir?'
Ramage hesitated and glanced at van Someren, who was deliberately staying out of the argument, but before he could answer a white - faced and angry Wagstaffe turned back to the girl and described how the Calypso had found the Tranquil. He then told how they had found everyone on board had been murdered, including the women passengers.
'What has that to do with the Nuestra Senora de Antigua and Captain Brune?' she demanded, obviously horrified by the story.
'She was the privateer, he was the captain,' Wagstaffe said quietly. "Captain Brune had all those people killed, unnecessarily and in cold blood. Now he threatens to burn down Amsterdam, your town. He,' Wagstaffe added with biting sarcasm and giving a slight bow, 'has been your country's ally for nearly ten years.'