Bennett's first words showed he had not lost his directness. 'That surgeon fellow was right: Bullivant should never have been made post,' he said emphatically.
'Salt beef and salt pork supplied by the father: that's what mattered. Thousands of casks, and plenty of cumshaw scattered among the right people in the Navy Board, and your eldest son doesn't need much ability. It's unfortunate for the seamen, officers and admirals who suffer the consequences ... In my opinion, sir, there's only one thing to do: send him back to Plymouth in the Murex brig with signed reports by Bowen and Dr Travis about his "sickness".'
'It's a serious matter, relieving him of his command.'
Ramage realized that the admiral was wavering, and he thought of the Calypso and her officers and ship's company. 'Sir, the consequences of not doing so will be worse.'
'How so? Relieving a captain of his command is serious enough!'
'You are relieving him only on medical grounds, sir,' Ramage reminded Clinton. 'You are not saying he is incompetent. But the consequences of leaving him in command - well, yesterday, there could have been three murders by him or a mutiny by the ship's company. There's bound to be mutiny if you leave him in command.'
'Bound to be mutiny? You don't have much confidence in the men you've spent so long training,' Clinton said sarcastically.
'On the contrary, sir: I have complete confidence in them: that's why I know they'd mutiny.'
Bennett was watching him shrewdly. He knows, Ramage realized, but the admiral has been too remote from the day-to-day handling of a ship's company for too long.
'Do you really mean you're confident they'd mutiny?' Clinton demanded angrily.
Ramage nodded. 'Yesterday, sir, Captain Bullivant said he would hang three men, Midshipman the Count Orsini, who happens to be the nephew of the ruler of Volterra and one of our allies; the master of the ship, who is certainly the most competent seaman and one of the bravest men I know; and an Italian seaman called Rossi, a man to whom I've entrusted my life on several occasions.
'Bullivant was going to have them hanged at sunset because after inspecting the entire ship's company he identified them as Satans. I trust, sir, that any seaman would mutiny rather than obey such an order to put nooses round their necks and haul them up to the yardarm.'
Ramage knew he was white-faced, and he kept his fists pressed down on the table to hide the trembling: he could feel perspiration soaking through his shirt but mercifully it did not appear on his face, which felt cold and clammy, as though he was about to faint.
'Quite,' Clinton said calmly. 'However, it seems to me the only one now left with his neck in a noose is the commander-in-chief.'
'That's what he's there for, sir,' Bennett said cheerfully. 'I agree with Ramage completely. I know what the Articles of War say and don't say, but I'd sooner the seamen mutinied than obeyed the "lawful" orders of a brandy-besotted madman. That's something the Articles don't allow for, and they should. Loyalty is what matters. Men who'd mutiny because of their loyalty to their officers and shipmates are the men I want round me when I go into battle.'
'We aren't in battle, we're blockading Brest, and judging from the last war the only action we're going to see is dealing with a drunken maniac,' Clinton grumbled.
'At least you're outside "Channel limits", sir,' Bennett said. 'That gives you more freedom.'
'Leaves me short of a post-captain for the Calypso.'
Bennett glanced across the table at Ramage. 'A post-captain commanding a brig is a bit overweight.'
Clinton waved dismissively: 'Ramage has to go to England with the brig: they'll need him at the inquiry into the mutiny and recapture, and for the Bullivant affair. Commanding a prize brig, don't forget.' The idea raised another train of thought for the admiral. 'Hmm, that's an interesting point. There's no question that Ramage captured the damned ship: he didn't "retake" her because he wasn't part of the original ship's company. He, his wife and four Frenchmen. He's the only one entitled to prize money.'
'His wife will help him spend it!' Bennett said jocularly.
'So you'll be back in Plymouth in a couple of days. Lucky fellow,' Clinton said, and then added: 'Why so gloomy? Sailing home after your honeymoon and with a sack full of prize money!' Then a sudden thought struck him. 'What about that young Scots first lieutenant? We ought to do something for him. Make him post into the Calypso?'
Ramage remembered an attempt a year or more ago when Aitken was offered command of a frigate and the post rank that went with it; he had said he preferred to continue sailing with Captain Ramage. But now was not the time to mention that to a Scots admiral. Aitken could make the point later, if necessary.
Bennett rubbed his ample chins and looked down at the table. 'If I was Ramage, sir, I'd be eating my heart out over the Calypso. And weren't you telling me earlier that he was concerned over this French count who is being transported to Cayenne - a friend of the Prince of Wales, didn't you say, sir?'
Ramage decided that Bennett was a man to whom he already owed a debt of gratitude worth more than a brig.
'Bennett,' Clinton said, his voice rasping, 'you have an unhappy knack of mentioning things I'm trying to forget.'
'Sir, I shouldn't forget that the Prince of Wales is unlikely to forget a commander-in-chief who forgot his friend being carried off to a certain death in Cayenne...'
And now, Ramage thought, the repetition of 'forget' and 'forgot' means the ace of trumps has gone down on the table. Or it's the bait dangling in front of the fish. Or the snare carefully placed outside the rabbit hole.
'Blast it, Bennett. I've been tossing up between the Prince of Wales and Lord St Vincent ever since Ramage mentioned the Count of Rennes. And it's probably not only the Count: if there are fifty of them, half are bound to be Royalists who went back to France after exile in England and know Prinny. At least half, probably more.'
'You are caught between the devil (pace Bullivant) of the Admiralty and the deep blue sea of the Prince, seems to me, sir.'
'It's all right for you to joke about it,' the admiral complained. 'I'm the one who has to choose.'
'Oh, I chose when you first told me about it yesterday, sir,' Bennett said blithely.
'You did, eh?' the admiral exclaimed, his voice now truculent, the accent becoming more pronounced. 'Surprising how easy it is to choose when you don't have the responsibility.'
Ramage expected Bennett to react strongly, but instead the little man picked up the quill pen lying on the table and waved it back and forth as though fanning himself.
'I'm like that surgeon fellow, Brown, or whatever his name was. I'll put it in writing if you wish, sir. As your flag captain I'm expected to give you professional advice when you ask for it.'
He paused and then tapped the table with the feather of the quill. 'My views are simple. Question number one, what do we do with the drunken Bullivant? Wrap him up, in a canvas straitjacket if necessary, and send him home in the Murex brig with reports by Bowen and Travis tucked in his pocket.'
He tapped the table twice. 'Question number two, who is to command the Calypso?There's only one possible man, and that's Ramage here. He's not needed for the Murex because her first lieutenant is a capable fellow, saw the mutiny and can write reports and give evidence. Also he deserves his chance of getting command of her from the Admiralty. I'm assuming Ramage here is resigned to his new wife returning to England without him.'