Ramage's Devil

'Yes, well, Aitken and young Orsini thought of that signal. I told Aitken we should stake everything on medical grounds, and between them they thought of that signal. Aitken could only keep it hoisted for ten or fifteen minutes at a time.'

'That was long enough. The Blackthorne repeated it and it reached the admiral.'

'And he sent you at once?'

Ramage laughed dryly. 'No, if the majority of the Murexbrig's men had not mutinied and carried the ship into Brest... And had I not been near Brest on my honeymoon... And had not my wife and I had the help of four Frenchmen so we could retake the Murex... And had we not managed to sail out and accidentally meet Admiral Clinton and the Fleet... And had the Calypso not been my old ship ... No, but for all those circumstances, Mr Sawbones, I don't think your signal would have attracted the attention it deserved. Still, all's well...'

'But will all this end well?' Bowen asked anxiously. 'We still have him' - he gestured to the door of the sleeping cabin - 'in there. Supposing the admiral doesn't...'

'Oh, he'll do something about him, I am sure. Who you'll get in his place I do not know. Probably the first lieutenant of the flagship - that's usually the person who gets the first vacant frigate command.'

'But the Calypso's still inside Channel limits.'

'She won't be when the admiral makes the appointment: Brest is outside the limits. He wasn't born yesterday!'

'And you, sir?'

Ramage hesitated, thinking of L'Espoir, which, even while the Calypso and the brig rejoined the Fleet, was ploughing her way towards Cayenne, towards Devil's Island. Everything depended on Admiral Clinton. Would the Prince of Wales's friendship with a French refugee have any effect? Probably not. Almost certainly not. And even if it did, Clinton must have his own favourite frigate captains, and one of them would get orders which could bring him glory or, if he failed, square his yards for ever!

'I expect I'll be taking the brig back to Plymouth and reporting what I know of the mutiny to the Admiralty.'

'And your wife, sir? Is her Ladyship still in France? You mentioned her when you talked of retaking the brig.'

'Yes, we escaped together and she is on board the Murex. She wanted to come with me to board the Calypso, but I was rather worried about what I might find.'

'I hope her Ladyship submitted with good grace.'

'Well, you know her Ladyship, Bowen. I doubt if anyone would call her submissive,' Ramage said.

Bowen laughed and his memories of Lady Sarah Rockley, as she was before her marriage, were of a lively and high-spirited woman of grace and beauty who would captivate all the men in a drawing room and leave the women seeming as flat as ale drawn last week.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Admiral Clinton sat at his desk with the alert wariness of a stag lurking in a stand of low trees at the far end of a glen. He was trying to decide whether the five men in front of him were innocent visitors or a quintet likely to board him in a cloud of smoke.

'Well now,' he said finally, his Scots accent broadening, and Ramage remembered Sarah's reference to the family, 'so here ye all are. Let me see ...

'Yes, Dr Travis, the physician of my fleet, I know you well enough, and so I should since I see you every day. Are ye comfortable in that old armchair?'

Travis, tall and gaunt, everyone's idea of a dour man of medicine, had obviously qualified in Edinburgh, and his brief 'Aye' was all he would allow himself for the moment.

'And m'flag captain - are you comfortable, Bennett? I know ye prefer standing but with this headroom and you so tall, it worries me!'

Except for Travis, the others laughed dutifully: Captain Bennett was only an inch or so over five feet; even his hair, wiry and sitting on his head like a bob major wig, did not come within five inches of the beams.

'Then there's Captain Ramage. Lord Ramage, by rights, but he saves us any possible embarrassment by not using his title. You're a jealous man, otherwise you'd have brought that beautiful wife with you.'

Ramage smiled, not at all certain whether or not the admiral was making a polite joke. 'She has only a fishwife's torn smock to wear, sir, so she decided to wait for a more appropriate occasion.'

Clinton gestured at Ramage's trousers and shirt. 'You'd have made a good pair. I've been a sailor too long to judge a ship by the patches in her sails.'

He looked round at the settee. 'Well, Mr Ramage, perhaps you'd introduce these gentlemen ...'

'Sir, Lieutenant Aitken, the Calypso's first lieutenant. He has served with me in the Mediterranean and the West Indies.'

'Aye,' Clinton told Aitken, 'he's been telling me all about you. What he doesn't know - nor do you - is that I knew all about you long ago.'

He gave a laugh at the look of dismay on the young lieutenant's face. 'Man, you look as though the parson's just accused you of deflowering all the young women in the village. Y'father was another Aitken, master, was he not, and he served with me in the Ramillies, Britannia and this ship, the Culloden, before I hoisted my flag. I owed a lot to y'father and I've kept an eye on you from the day y'went to sea, but you've made your own way without needing a dram of help so I've held m'peace.'

Aitken was obviously startled at this news and stammered his thanks, to be cut short by Clinton. 'Ye've served Mr Ramage very well, and it looks to me as if Mr Ramage feels towards the Aitken family as I do. Still, we all have the rest of our lives to live and,' he added, his voice taking on a friendly warning note, 'a great deal of both good and bad can happen before we go to our graves.'

A sombre silence had fallen over the great cabin and in Ramage's imagination the mahogany of the desk, wine cooler and table seemed to grow darker, but Clinton seemed not to realize the effect he had unwittingly made.

'And you must be the Calypso's surgeon - Bowen, isn't it? You and Mr Aitken have had a worrying time, I imagine. Now, who starts? Perhaps we'd be better starting at the end, then Dr Travis can be about his business.'

Which was another way of saying, Ramage reflected, that Travis would not have to listen to things that he could be questioned about later at a court-martial.

'How did you find the patient?'

'Mr Aitken was justified in signalling for the physician of the fleet, sir. This is no reflection on the medical capacity of Mr Bowen, who I truly believe understands a great deal more about this type of illness than I do.'

'Don't stop man, you've only just started!' the admiral exclaimed impatiently.

'Acting on your orders, I boarded the Calypso frigate as soon as she hove-to near the flagship,' Travis said in a monotonous voice, obviously nettled by the admiral's remarks, 'and I asked Captain Ramage why the ship had made the signal requesting the fleet's physician. He said that the captain of the frigate, a certain Captain William Bullivant, was confined to his cot unconscious and not in a fit condition to exercise command of the ship.'

'Oh, go on, man!'

'Captain Ramage commented to me,' Travis said heavily, 'that the nature of Captain Bullivant's illness was such that not only could he not exercise command, but it led him for long periods to act in a manner prejudicial to the King's business.'

Everyone in the cabin realized that Travis had spoken slowly and with great care a sentence which was carefully phrased, intended not just for the ears of the commander-in-chief but the five or more captains and flag officers who might be forming a court-martial or court of inquiry.

'Did you examine the patient?'

'I was introduced to the ship's first lieutenant and her surgeon, but before discussing the case any further I went below and examined the patient. I have my notes here,' he said, pulling a sheaf of papers from a leather case. The admiral watched for a moment as Travis began sorting them out, and then groaned.