Ramage and the Renegades

'I think Gianna is anxious to know if you heard any news of Bonaparte's - er, offer.'

'Yes, I did,' the Admiral said grimly. 'Too much. Hawkesbury called in while Hood and I were talking, and told us about it. The negotiations are nearly complete; Hawkesbury sees this fellow Otto for three or four hours a day and dispatches go off to Paris daily - apparently we have Revenue cutters waiting in Dover and they deliver Otto's diplomatic bag in Calais and bring back Bonaparte's instructions.'

Ramage said: 'Did you discover anything about the terms, father?'

The old man was silent for a moment, lost in thought. In memories, Ramage guessed. Thousands of British men had been killed, dozens of ships sunk, countless women widowed and children orphaned. Now the present politicians were likely to make all these sacrifices worthless in their scramble for peace: they would accept any terms Bonaparte cared to offer because they knew a peace treaty meant votes, just as the previous government had squandered thousands of soldiers and not a few sailors through sickness to capture worthless West Indian spice islands because 'victories' were always worth a Parliamentary cheer. Few members of Parliament realized that most such islands were only a quarter the size of a county like Kent. Few would remember that Bonaparte controlled everything that mattered, from the shores of the North Sea to the banks of the Mediterranean, including Spain, Italy and Egypt. Except for a naval base like Jamaica, the West Indian islands were irrelevant.

The Earl glanced up at Nicholas. Two scars on one side of his brow, another the size of a coin on his head - the hair there was growing back white - and a stiff left arm: wounds inflicted in the West Indies, Mediterranean and Atlantic. Nicholas and Lord Nelson had disobeyed Sir John Jervis's orders at the Battle of Cape St Vincent and in doing so had turned a miserable defeat into enough of a victory to earn Jervis an earldom, so that Earl St Vincent was now First Lord of the Admiralty. St Vincent was a fine administrator who had, by accident, won an undeserved reputation as a tactician. Had he ever forgiven that glorious act of disobedience by a young lieutenant called Ramage, which was spotted and backed by an almost unknown commodore in a seventy-four called Nelson? Now Jervis was Earl St Vincent; without those two he would still be Jervis, and few would have sympathized had he been put on the beach to draw halfpay for the rest of his life.

'Yes, and by the time the treaty is ratified I suspect we'll have surrendered every acre of land we've taken except Ceylon and Trinidad, and we may have forced Bonaparte to leave Egypt.'

'And Italy?' Gianna said.

The Earl shook his head, as though trying to drive away his irritation. 'Bonaparte has made offers on behalf of France, Sweden, Denmark and Holland. The negotiations concern only territory belonging to Britain or those countries. There has been no mention of Tuscany, Piedmont, the Papal States . . . Nor does Hawkesbury see how we can do anything about them - I asked him.'

'He's a weak man,' Gianna commented.

'He's a politician,' the Earl said contemptuously. 'No votes come from Italy for Addington and his cronies, but the House of Commons will give them three cheers for Ceylon and Trinidad...'

'When will the details be made public - officially, I mean?' Ramage asked.

The Earl shrugged his shoulders. 'When Bonaparte, or this fellow Otto, say so. Officially Addington and Hawkesbury deny any negotiations are going on. That's where Otto is so usefuclass="underline" he's been the official French representative in London since the exchange of prisoners started, so no one takes any notice of his comings and goings.'

'Gianna's dressmaker,' the Countess said firmly. 'We can do more good by visiting her than talking about the tidbits that Bonaparte tosses to us.'

With that the two women left the room to put on outdoor clothes. Even though a watery sun made faint shadows, the chill of autumn was in the air.

The Earl sipped his sherry. 'A sad business. Hood agrees with me that we are giving up just as the tide is turning in our favour.'

Nicholas said: 'Yes, the French are desperately short of wood, rope and canvas for their ships. Our blockade is really hurting them. I'd have thought that's why Bonaparte's offering terms: he wants a year or so of peace to restock his larder. Then he'll go to war again, knowing we'll have paid off most of our ships and disbanded our regiments. Once the men have disappeared the pressgangs will never find them again.'

His father put down his glass. 'Hood made the same points: he too reckons Bonaparte wants a rest, and lost his temper with Hawkesbury over the policy. But Jenks is only a politician, and for people like him no policy need cover more than the next division in the House of Commons. The frontiers of the world are bounded by the walls of the "Ayes" and "Noes" lobbies.'

'Will the King agree, though?'

'They'll persuade him Britain is going bankrupt. It probably is, but better bankruptcy than Bonaparte!'

He held his sherry up to the light coming through the window. 'When will the dockyard be finished with the Calypso?'

'Another three or four weeks. It'd be longer, but my fourth lieutenant's father is the Master Shipwright.'

'At Chatham? Hmm, used to be a fellow called Martin. Very good. One of the very few honest men in all the King's dockyards.'

'It must be the same man: his son is William Martin, known to his friends as "Blower".'

' "Blower"? What an extraordinary nickname!'

'He plays a flute.'

'Ah yes, you told me. Did very well in that Porto Ercole affair with the bomb ketches, and then with young Paolo in the convoy from Sardinia.'

'That's the lad. If he goes on like this he deserves to get his flag.'

'Won't stand a chance if there's peace. By the way, Nicholas, you ought to get Paolo up here from Chatham. Gianna is anxious to inspect her nephew, but she won't say anything to you for fear of it seeming like favouritism.'

Ramage smiled and nodded. 'Yes, I'd guessed that, and talked it over with my first lieutenant and Southwick. There's an enormous amount Paolo can learn while a refit like this goes on, so we decided he'd get no leave for the first three weeks but they'd cram as much as they could into him and then make sure he has a week or two with Gianna.'

'She's so proud of him.'

'She's right to be. He's very much like her in some ways. Not so - well, explosive, but a very quick brain. Gets on very well with the men. Brave to the point of foolhardiness. If he survives and improves his mathematics, he'll pass for lieutenant at the first try.'

'Have you thought of taking Gianna down to Chatham so that she could see the ship as well?'

Ramage's face fell. 'What a fool I am! She'd love it and all the old Kathleens - Jackson, Rossi, Southwick, Stafford -would go mad. Would you and mother come down as well?'

'Ah - well, I was hoping you'd propose it. Yes, we'd be delighted: we've already discussed it, so I know your mother's answer.'

CHAPTER TWO

The black-hulled Calypso frigate had caused a stir of interest from the moment she sailed up the muddy Medway on the first of the flood, her ship's company racing round the deck working sheets, tacks and braces as she tacked and then tacked again the moment she had way on. The Medway narrows up as it nears the towns past the ruins of Upnor Castle (battered a century and a half earlier by the Dutchman, de Ruyter), and has some nasty bends, with mudflats a few inches below the water to trap the unwary.

Once she had moored off Chatham Dockyard, the ship and her men came under the authority of the Commissioner and was soon the target of all his minions. Ramage had managed to get a copy of a recent Royal Kalendar to see the names of the men who would be responsible for the Calypso's refit and whom Aitken, the first lieutenant, would spend several weeks cajoling, persuading and threatening to get work done properly and reasonably promptly.