Ramage's Devil

'You can sail in company with us. I have to take this ship to the admiral. Do you want some more men?'

Swan shook his head. 'No, sir, so I'll get back to the Murex. What about her Ladyship? Shall I send the cutter back with her?'

'No, we can't spare the time, but as long as you make sure no one else overhears, you can tell her what you saw.'

'Any other message for her Ladyship, sir?'

'Tell her that Southwick, Stafford, Jackson and Aitken - no, just tell her that all the officers and ship's company of the Calypso send her their regards.'

Swan looked puzzled. Ramage could see that the lieutenant was wondering how on earth a captain's new wife could know all the men in his previous ship. 'They saved her life once, Swan. If you have time and if she's agreeable, get her to tell you about it: it'll help you pass the time as we beat back to the Fleet.'

Ramage stood on the fore side of the quarterdeck with Aitken as they watched the Murex brace up the foretopsail yard and then bear away to the rendezvous, the clewed-up courses soon set and drawing.

'Handsome little ships, those brigs,' Aitken said. 'Any nostalgia, sir?' he asked, knowing Ramage had commanded the Triton.

'Yes and no. "Yes" because they are handy - we tacked that one out of the Gullet with only a dozen men, and looking back on it we could probably have made do with eight. "No" because I found it strange being in that particular one, where most of the men had mutinied and handed over the ship (and their loyal shipmates) to the enemy. It's as though treachery rubs off like soot, marking everything and leaving a distinctive smell.'

'Aye, evil has a distinct smell, and all of us can recognize it. In our case it's the smell of brandy.

'It has been bad, eh?'

'Almost beyond belief, sir. We could see no end to it. There's nothing in the Articles of War or the Regulations and Instructions about it. Bowen reckoned medical reasons were the only safe way, but for the first day or so, when the drink wasn't in him, he was bright enough. Cunning and fawning, but shrewd. It seemed to me, sir, that if we took away his command and then he was cunning enough to keep off the liquor for a few weeks before the court-martial, at the trial he could make it all look very different...'

'Yes, that's the danger. When you look at something from different directions, you get different views.'

'And Bowen knew all about the effects of drink. That's how we came -'

Ramage held up a hand to stop him. 'I'm sure the ship's officers didn't conspire against the captain, Aitken, because that's forbidden. As you know, Article XX specifies death as the only punishment for anyone "concealing any traitorous or mutinous practice or design". So don't mention anything resembling conspiracy - the listener immediately becomes guilty as well.'

Aitken grinned. 'I understand that, sir. Well, it's wonderful to have you on board again.'

Ramage nodded and looked across at the Murex, now a couple of miles away. 'I think we can get under way now and rejoin the admiral with the brig. Admiral Clinton is a very puzzled man.'

They walked forward again and Aitken picked up the speaking trumpet. Ramage realized that since he last stood here a couple of months or so ago, as they tacked up the Medway to Chatham, he had married, been to France, escaped capture when the war broke out again, recaptured the Murex brig, and relieved the new captain of the Calypso of his command. What he had not done was try to rescue Jean-Jacques.

'I'm going below to see Bowen and his patient,' he told Aitken. He gave him a folded piece of paper. 'Here is the rendezvous, and you'll sight the fleet before nightfall. Ignore the Blackthorne if she starts making signals - there's no signal in the book to describe what we're doing.'

Below in the great cabin he found Bowen sitting in the chair at the desk while in the sleeping cabin Bullivant, undressed and now in his nightshirt, was breathing heavily in a drunken stupor, his lips flapping like wet laundry each time he exhaled.

Bowen hurriedly stood up as the Marine sentry announced Ramage, who gestured to him to remain seated.

'I'll take the armchair. It's good to see you, Bowen. I wish it was under happier circumstances...'

'Oh, I hope everything will turn out all right, sir,' Bowen said vaguely. 'For the moment we have about an hour before Captain Bullivant recovers consciousness and descends into the hell of delirium tremens.'

'Hell seems the right word: he seems obsessed, with it. He recognized me as the Devil when I came on board.'

'Oh yes, Satan is very real to him. For the past five or six days this ship has reeked of brimstone. The captain had all the lieutenants sprinkling the quarterdeck with holy water laced with brandy in an attempt to exorcize it, but without success.'

'This conversation never took place,' Ramage remarked, 'so tell me the story from the beginning.'

'Well, you know a good deal of the circumstances if you remember how I came to serve with you in the Triton brig,' Bowen said with disconcerting frankness.

'There are two kinds of heavy drinkers: those who drink secretly until they are stupefied, and those who don't give a damn and get drunk openly. Captain Buliivant is a secret drinker, so no one - except perhaps his family and his wife if he is married - knows. But from my own experience I can tell you he has been drinking hard for years. Four or five years, anyway: look at the veins under the skin of his face, at his nose, at his eyes when they are open. And he looks ten or twenty years older than he is.'

'But when he joined the ship,' Ramage prompted.

'Ah, yes. We had fallen behind in paying off the ship because of difficulties with the dockyard, and just as well. We (that is, Mr Aitken, because of course you were on leave) suddenly received orders to commission the ship at once, and the dockyard commissioner warned us war was likely again any moment. He also said that if you did not return from France in time, the First Lord would appoint a new captain.

'We had the ship ready in what must be record time and Captain Bullivant appeared and read himself in as the new commanding officer. Very brisk, he was, and delighted with everything Aitken and Southwick had done. He made a very good impression on every person who saw him, except one man.'

'And that was you.' It was a comment, not a question.

'Yes, I knew the symptoms which no one else ever recognizes. The constant sweating, the tiny tremor of the fingers when the hands are extended, the slightly glazed appearance of the eyes and the feeling they are never quite in focus, the smell of cashews on the breath ... the apparent temperance and lack of interest in wine and spirits. When his luggage was brought on board, I had a word with Jackson and he made sure each trunk was checked. One clinked - full of bottles, carefully packed and only two loose ones.'

'And after he had read himself in?'

'All went well the next day: orders arrived from the Admiralty to proceed to Plymouth and put ourselves under Admiral Clinton's command. We were off the Nore that night and we suddenly found ourselves in the middle of the Harwich fishing fleet. Aitken sent for the captain, who came up on deck so stupefied he could not stand without holding on to something. That was the first time we heard him see the Devil.'

'What did he look like?' Ramage asked.

'Well, we didn't see him since he only existed in the fumes affecting Captain Bullivant's brain, but we certainly heard where he was: about fifty yards on one bow and then on the other, preparing to rake us.'

'With empty bottles, I suppose.'

Bowen grinned as he shook his head. 'No, he was on the fo'c'sle of a three-decker which was "painted in orange stripes like a glorious sunset" - Captain Bullivant's exact words, though he didn't explain how he distinguished colour in the dark. All this took the lieutenants and Southwick by surprise, sir: I had kept my earlier observations to myself - I had not realized he had reached the stage of recurrent delirium tremens. I was mistaken: I should have warned Aitken.'