Southwick reminded Ramage of the privateersmen being held on board as prisoners.
'I'd forgotten those. They probably stand less chance in court than the others actually in the Lynx, because if Tomás or Hart had actually given the word, they would have been the murderers. What happened to Renwick, by the way?'
Bowen shook his head. 'I'm sorry, sir, I forgot to mention him. He's all right now, but he was knocked out by one of the Lynx's half beams; it flew on board, hit the mainmast and then fell on him. He's a trifle sensitive about it, sir; reckons it's an undignified way for a Marine officer to be put out of action!'
'Undignified! His captain nearly went over the side in an armchair!' Ramage burst out laughing at the thought of it, but a moment later was gasping with pain as the spasms of laughter wrenched at his arm and leg.
Once he had his breath back again, he said: 'Well, I suppose that's it. You've no other surprises for me, I presume.'
The two men looked at each other, and seemed reluctant to speak.
'What's the matter?' Ramage was alarmed. Was it about Paolo? He suddenly remembered Southwick had only mentioned him swimming.
'Well, nothing the matter, sir,' Southwick said. 'It's just rather irregular, and I don't know how to tell you.'
Ramage grinned. 'Oh, come on, let's get this report over with!'
'It's not a report exactly, sir. Aitken discussed it all with Bowen and I, and as I knew more about it than the others, I took the responsibility. Well, that's to say I - er, I agreed that -'
'Southwick!' Ramage snapped. 'You sound as though you plan to jilt a blushing maiden.'
'Ah, yes, sir: you remember that lady in the Earl of Dodsworth who cleaned up the wound on your arm?'
Ramage nodded warily. He had asked Southwick earlier if everyone in the East Indiaman was safe and had been assured they were. Now here was Southwick backing and filling, and Bowen looking damned uncomfortable.
'Well, sir, she and her mother have been waiting to see you since soon after we anchored.'
'Waiting? What, you mean you signalled the Earl of Dodsworth when I'd recovered enough to receive visitors?'
'No, sir,' Bowen said firmly. 'They insisted that one of the East Indiaman's boats be lowered, collected every scrap of clean cotton and linen in the ship, and had themselves rowed over to help tend our wounded.
'They spent several hours helping me clean up and bandage the men, then took over the galley and made them soup. They - well, the daughter, because the mother was busy with Wagstaffe - helped me sort out your leg and splint it, sir, and did your arm again. They wore themselves out.'
'Have they gone back to the Earl of Dodsworth now?'
'Not exactly, sir, because they know they'll be able to help me again when it comes to changing dressings and checking that each man is comfortable.'
'Where are they, then?'
'We made up a bed for the mother on your settee, sir, and the lady's resting in the armchair. They're both waiting in your day cabin. Can I show them in now, sir?'
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Walking his own quarterdeck using a cane had its funny side, at least as far as Sarah was concerned. The click of the ferrule on the planking, she said, sounded like a wooden-legged, black-eye-patched pirate captain walking up and down, a parrot on his shoulder, and shouting foul oaths because no ship came over the horizon to provide him with a victim.
It was two weeks since the Lynx had blown up and the bay looked strangely empty. Strangely because he had first seen it with the privateer and her five prizes anchored there. As soon as all the ships' companies were freed from their prison camp (with the privateersmen prisoners on board the Calypso, closely guarded by Renwick's Marines), there had been a round of official calls on Ramage, by then transferred to his settee each day.
The first visitor (apart from Sarah and her mother) had been the captain of the Earl of Dodsworth. As befitted the captain of a John Company ship, he came in considerable state, but he was a pleasant and plump man, pink-faced and perspiring under a wig that did its best to hide his complete baldness. He made no secret that, during the long days as a prisoner, he never expected to see his ship again. The arrival of the Calypso, he said, had not given them any hope because the pirate guards - he resolutely refused to refer to them as privateersmen and was, of course, perfectly correct - had warned them that all the passengers, still held in the ships, and everyone in the prison camp, would be killed if any rescue was attempted.
On a later visit to the frigate, the Earl of Dodsworth's captain, John Hungerford, also made no secret of the fact that after the rescue, and with the Lynx destroyed by the Calypso, thepassengers had met in the saloon and then called him to hear what they had been discussing: they did not want to sail on to England alone.
He had explained to them that there was now a treaty of peace signed with Bonaparte, but they had pointed out that the Lynx had been a British ship, and two of her victims had been French. What they were afraid of, he said, was yet another Lynx like the one that had recently hove in sight.
Ramage was not sure whether Hungerford was being tactful or he had not expected the Calypso to catch the Lynx's sister ship, but it was unlikely that their Lordships at the Admiralty would view the episode with much favour.
Dusk was warning of night when the second privateer came into the bay. Aitken had realized immediately who she was. The Calypso had slipped her anchor and sailed at once in chase, the men loading and running out the guns by the time the frigate passed the headland, but the privateer, making the best use of her fore and aft rig to work up to windward to round the eastern side of the island, then turned northeast, sailing into the darker half of the horizon. By the time the Calypso had settled down to chase it was completely dark, and dawn brought an empty horizon, except for the grey smudge of Trinidade in the distance.
Ramage, still confined to his cot by the leg wound, had been puzzled by one thing: where were the second ship's prizes? Tomás and Hart had hinted that their fellow privateer was due with more victims, so had she failed to find any? Bad weather in the English Channel could delay sailings for a month, and that could be enough to account for a lack of outward-bound ships. Or she could have her victims anchored somewhere else. If so, where?
For once he was not bedevilled with choices: looking for prizes was ruled out by the fact that there were no known islands that the privateer could be using: Ascension, Fernando de Noronha, St Paul Rocks - all were too frequently visited. Finally he concluded that the privateer was simply intending to rejoin the Lynx and help take the prizes to wherever they were to be sold off. Indeed, she could have been away arranging the sale at some port on the South American coast.
Hungerford had brought many invitations for the Calypso's officers to visit the Earl of Dodsworth for dinner, but more thoughtful was the request that one of the Calypso's boats go alongside the East Indiaman to collect some cases of spiced foods for the Calypso's men: things with sharp tastes that would tempt the men after weeks of salt tack.
The Amethyst's captain had been the next visitor, and he confirmed that the ship was indeed one of Mr Sidney Yorke's fleet, and Mr Yorke himself had told him about the voyage he had once made across the Atlantic with Mr Ramage and Mr Southwick, discovering how Post Office packets were being captured by the enemy.
The French captain of the Heliotrope and the Dutch master of theFriesland came together and, to begin with, were chilly and formal, protesting to Ramage that the Lynx had been British, and implying that Ramage must have known of and approved her activities even though a peace had been signed.