Ramage

 'Thank you,' he answered stiffly. 'You are Lieutenant Nicholas Ramage?'

'Indeed I am,' he said politely.

 'Then I—' he paused, looking for the paper he had been holding as he fell.

 'I think you'll find that the warrant appointing you "Provost Marshal on the occasion" has slipped under the table.'

 Blenkinsop went down on his knees to retrieve it, his hat falling off in the process. Finally, hat back on his head and the warrant unfolded, he began reading:

 'To Reginald Blenkinsop, a lieutenant of His Majesty's ship Trumpeter. Captain Aloysius Croucher, of His Majesty's ship Trumpeter and senior officer present at the port of Bastia, having ordered a court martial to be assembled to try Lieutenant Nicholas Ramage, formerly of his late Majesty's ship—‘

'His Majesty's late ship,’ interrupted Ramage.

 '—formerly of His - His Majesty's late ship Sibella, for the loss of the said ship: the aforementioned Captain Croucher hereby authorizes and appoints you to officiate as Provost Marshal on this occasion; and you are to take the person of the said Lieutenant Nicholas Ramage into your custody, and him safely keep, until he shall be delivered by due course of law; and for so doing this shall be your warrant—'

 'Oh stow it,' Ramage interrupted impatiently, 'you must like the sound of your own voice.'

 'I'm duty bound to read this to you,' Blenkinsop said primly.

 'No, you're not. You are supposed to present it to the Captain of this ship as your authority to remove me. But you've already done that, naturally.'

 Blenkinsop looked embarrassed. 'Oh - well, I - I say, do I really have to?'

'Well, it's not for your prisoner to tell you what to do; but his Lordship might take a serious view of you removing one of his officers without showing him your authority.'

'Oh dear. Well, I'd better go and do that.'

 'Excellent! Capital!' said Ramage. 'But keep your voice low - his Lordship is on his sick bed. Run along, now: I'll wait for you on the gangway.'

 Ramage picked up Dawlish's sword, and collected the few papers he had to take with him. There was a letter from the Deputy Judge Advocate which had arrived the previous evening informing him - with an unbecoming briskness, he thought - that of the witnesses he had requested for his defence, only the Bosun and Carpenter's Mate would be available. Ramage had noted down some facts about the wind and weather, times and casualties, and the courses steered before the Sibella’s surrender, but had not prepared the usual written defence, since he had no idea what accusations he would eventually be facing.

A few moments later he was standing talking to Dawlish when a flustered Blenkinsop came up from the Captain's cabin and said, 'It seems there's also someone else for me to take over to the Trumpeter.'

Dawlish looked blank; then Ramage remembered Jackson.

'Yes, one of my witnesses.'

'Oh, very well,' Blenkinsop said condescendingly.

 'By the way,' said Ramage, 'you forgot to ask me to surrender this,' handing Blenkinsop the sword and scabbard.

 'And be careful with it,' said Dawlish, 'because it's mine. Tell me' - his voice suddenly became almost deferential -'aren't you one of the Wiltshire Blenkinsops?'

'Yes,' he answered with affected modesty.

 'Am I right in thinking you are the only one in the Service?'

'Yes, that is so.'

 'Thank Christ for that!' said Dawlish viciously. 'Now, don't let me delay your departure with all this idle social chatter. Be careful you don't get boarded by one of these bumboats - the women are absolutely riddled with terrible diseases, and the prices they charge are outrageous.'

 'Really!' exclaimed Blenkinsop, and bolted for the entry port, blushing furiously.

As he disappeared down the ship's side to the waiting boat, Ramage went to follow him, but Dawlish, with a grin on his face, motioned him to wait a moment and went to the port.

'Mr Blenkinsop - shall I send your prisoner down?'

Chapter 16

The Trumpeter's great cabin, now in use as the courtroom, looked very different from when Ramage had first seen it two days earlier: the long, polished table was placed athwartships, and six naval captains sat along the far side, facing forward, with Ramage's borrowed sword in front of them.

The captains had Ramage facing them on their left, sitting on a straight-backed wooden chair, and to the right an empty chair was ready for the first witness. To one side of Ramage sat Blenkinsop, a sword across his knees, while behind, at the forward end of the cabin, a dozen chairs for spectators were arranged in two rows, facing the table.

 The deck was covered in canvas which had been painted in a pattern of large black and white squares. Ramage noticed the four legs of a chair just fitted inside a square, as though everyone in the court was a chessman. As far as the trial was concerned, he knew what moves the court was allowed by law to make and, providing he kept his head, he might be able to prevent them checkmating him ... He waited for the opening gambit to be made by the Deputy Judge Advocate, who was sitting to his left at the far end of the table.

The man's temporary title could never disguise that he was a purser. Small, steel-rimmed spectacles perched precariously halfway down a long and bulbous red nose, while the nose itself appeared to have been stuck on to a fat face, rather as if some cruel humorist had thrust the thin end of a carrot into an over-ripe pumpkin. It was the face of a prosperous tradesman - as indeed a purser was: a man who knew all there was to know about prices and percentages; who had grown rich serving out provisions to the men in pounds weighing fourteen ounces and, quite legally, pocketing the two ounces' difference.

 Mr Horace Barrow, the Trumpeter's purser, could probably buy out a captain any day of the week; but now - equipped with a sheaf of papers, several quill pens, and a knife to sharpen them, a bottle of ink, sandbox, a leather-bound Bible, an ivory and silver Crucifix - in case any witnesses were Catholic - and books of reference, including the slim volume containing the Articles of War and a thicker one, the Regulaand Instructions, by which the Navy was governed, he was ready to start the trial.

Five of the six captains sitting at the table had watched Ramage as he came in. All were smartly dressed, as befitted the occasion: the order summoning each officer to the court martial always specified that 'it is expected you will attend in your uniform frock'.

 Certainly the uniform frock was drabber now, Ramage reflected; only last year the Admiralty had decreed the white facings of the turned-back lapels should be replaced with blue, although not everyone had yet complied, but the lapels, held back by nine buttons on each side, and the stand-up collar, were still edged with gold. All but one of the captains wore epaulets on each shoulder - another new idea ordered by the Admiralty at the same time that the lapel facings were changed - and not at all popular with some officers, who regarded as Frenchified the gold lace sewn on the shoulder pads, and the tight spirals of gold bullion hanging down in a fringe.

The exception among the captains was the one sitting at  the end next to the Deputy Judge Advocate: he wore only one epaulet, on his right shoulder, indicating he had less than three years' seniority.

 The one captain who did not look up when Ramage marched in was Croucher, the president of the court: he was staring down at some papers on the table, and Ramage noticed he also had the Sibella's two logs and muster book in front of him. The other captains were sitting on Croucher's right and left according to seniority. The man on his right — Ramage remembered him from an earlier commission - was Captain Blackman and must be next senior to Croucher, while Captain Herbert, whom he knew by sight, came next and sat on his left. There were two captains Ramage did not recognize, but the most junior, wearing the single epaulet, was Ferris, who commanded a frigate. Was he one of Goddard's clique? Surely not: Ramage remembered him as one of Sir John Jervis's proteges.