Ramage

 So the doctor was suspicious - but not unfriendly. Well, here goes, he thought.

 'Do you mean to say those impudent English have dared attack Port' Ercole?'

'Why yes,' exclaimed the doctor, obviously taken aback. 'From under the guns of the fortresses they towed out two French ships, and burnt others, in spite of the fact that we are neutral in this present unhappy conflict, even if we cannot stop the French coming and going as they please. But the British...'

 'They are scoundrels! Do you think their ships will come here?'

 'Oh no,' exclaimed the doctor, puzzled by Ramage's attitude. 'No, no — you have seen the fortress: how it guards the port. Those guns - my God, the last time the garrison fired them they broke all the glass in my windows! They are big guns: no ship could survive. And French artillerymen have taken them over.'

 Ramage stopped himself glancing up, but remembered noticing the glass had not been cleaned for months: yet they faced the muzzles of the guns on the seaward side of the fortress. So much for the amount of firing practice the gunners were allowed.

 But from the way the little doctor was watching, Ramage realized he did not believe a word of his story. On the other hand, it seemed he discounted any link with the British frigate. Yet Ramage sensed the little man's curiosity was roused. It was time to go about on the other tack: his only chance — if he was to avoid violence - was to gain the little man's sympathy.

 'Doctor, I will be honest with you: you are far, far too intelligent and far-seeing for me to succeed in my gentle attempt at deception. Yes, I am a British naval officer - although nothing to do with the frigate at Port' Ercole. I give you my word of honour that I have in my care a lady who has been shot in the shoulder: the ball is still in the wound. She is not far from here, and if she does not receive skilled treatment very quickly, I fear for her life. Will you give her that treatment?'

 'But - but that is impossible! The authorities - why they would guillotine me for doing such a thing.'

'Who are "the authorities" - the French?'

'Yes, and our Governor is also friendly towards them since our King signed the armistice.'

'Are you certain they would kill you?'

 'Well, probably: I am not without influence; but it would be hard to explain away.'

Sympathy had failed: time was getting short.

'But you are not certain they would kill you?'

'Well, not entirely; they might shut me in the dungeons for a few years.'

 'Then there is one thing you can be certain of, Doctor.' Ramage reached down to his right boot and came up with the knife in his hand. 'You can be quite certain that if you don't help this lady, then I'll kiil you - now.'

The little man glanced at the knife and whipped off his spectacles.

 'But this is monstrous! You would never escape! I have only to call out—'

 'Doctor, look carefully at this knife: it is not an ordinary one. You see I am holding it by the point of the blade, and that the blade is thick and the hilt thin. That is because it is a throwing knife. If you open your mouth to shout, I flick my hand and before you utter a sound this blade is sticking in your throat...'

The little doctor began perspiring - not profusely, but in a genteel fashion of which no doubt he would be proud if he thought about it.

 'If I come with you...?'        ^

 'If you come with me and attend the lady, you will be unharmed and when you've finished you'll go free: I give you my word I am concerned only with saving a life, not taking one.'

 'All right, I agree - not that I have any choice since you'll murder me otherwise. But no one must know.'

 'We have a mutual concern for secrecy. But in case you change your mind out in the street and call for help, or even raise a warning eyebrow to a passer-by, then this knife will kill you. I learned knife throwing and anatomy, Doctor, from a  Neapolitan, so you need entertain no hopes of the blade glancing off bone.'

 'No, no, quite,' the doctor said hurriedly, 'I must get my bag of instruments.'

'I will come with you: you may need help in carrying them.'

TMo, no, I assure you—'

'It will be no trouble, Doctor: none at all.'

 One of the seamen acting as sentry at the northern end of the beach had already spotted the track and stationed himself halfway along it. The doctor's alarm when a half-naked seaman suddenly stood up from behind a bush a yard away, pointing a cutlass at the little man's stomach, sent him scuttling back to Ramage for protection.

 Walking across the sand the doctor, whose eyesight was keen enough without spectacles - they were worn as part of his social and professional uniform and were probably made of plain glass — spotted the girl's couch of juniper branches and at once his manner changed: the doctor, the practical man of medicine, took over.

 Knowing she could not see over the edge of the boughs, Ramage called a warning to her in English that they were bringing a doctor.

'Judging by his manner, he must have trained in Florence,' he added, a bantering note in his voice. 'I hadn't time to look farther afield.'

 'Lieutenant, I had not realized your sense of humour was as highly cultivated as your sense of duty!'

'It flourishes in the sun,' he said dryly. 'Now speak only in English: I'll pretend to interpret.'

'May I examine the lady?' asked the doctor.

 'Yes,' said Ramage. "We will dispense with introductions. If we do not know each other's names then we cannot be forced to reveal them, can we Doctor?'

 'Assuredly not,' the doctor declared wholeheartedly. He knelt by the girl, unstrapped his bag of instruments, and removed his jacket

'The lady speaks Italian?'

'No,' said Ramage.

The doctor ceased to be a puffed up - and puffed out - fat little man: in cutting away the crude bandage his podgy fingers handled the scissors with the same assurance and gentle deftness of a woman making fine lace.

 Ramage told the doctor to call him if necessary and walked away, sick and faint, and angry at his inability to help the girl or ease her pain. Anyway, the next move had to be planned.

 At the northern end of the beach he sat on a low rock, cursing to himself because there was hardly any shade from the cliff towering up almost vertically above him. If the girl can be moved tonight - what then? Well, I know one of our frigates attacked Port’ Ercole last night but it's unlikely she's the one I've asked to be at the rendezvous. The merchantmen at anchor in Santo Stefano are a good bait, and if the doctor's complacency about the strength of the fortress is shared by the Governor and the French, they won't expect the British to try to cut out the ships.

 So much for the fortress: what's the frigate doing here? Three possible reasons: first, because of the danger of Bonaparte's troops trying to invade Corsica, Sir John has sent frigates to capture or destroy any craft that can be used as transports; second, the frigate is under orders to capture a particular ship because of her cargo - though that's unlikely because she wouldn't have endangered the enterprise by bothering with other craft in the harbour; third, the frigate spotted the ships while passing Port' Ercole and her captain couldn't resist the chance of a few prizes. Yet that's unlikely because it's difficult to see into the harbour from seaward.

That leaves the first explanation: Sir John is dealing with possible enemy transports. In that case Santo Stefano can also expect a visitor...

Right — supposing I was the frigate's captain: what would I do after attacking Port' Ercole? There are only a few harbours and anchorages around here worth bothering with – Port’ Ercole and Santo Stefano on Argentario; Talamone on the mainland to the north, and Giglio Porto.