"Want a drink?" Yorke asked.
Ramage shook his head. "I've got to think clearly, and spirits won't help."
Yorke sat down. "This is where we were when it all started," he said miserably.
Ramage grunted. "I should have made her take the next regular packet."
"Don't talk nonsense. No one could have made her do that," Yorke said severely. "Stop blaming yourself: keep your mind clear to work on how to free her."
"Any ideas?" Ramage asked bitterly.
"Why not go and shout down the hatch - she may answer. That'll set your mind at rest that she's not been harmed."
"Why the devil do you think I'm sitting here?" Ramage demanded angrily. "I'm here just to make damned sure I don't shout to her. Those bloody mutineers would probably knock her out to stop her answering."
Yorke nodded, slowly realizing that Ramage was right and knowing the strain had sharpened his tongue. "We just wait," he said. "The next move is up to the mutineers."
"I know damned well what they'll do: the Bosun confirmed that. They'll demand we go to Coruña, and if we don't-" He broke off, as if unwilling to put the rest into words. "It's getting her out..." He paused and jumped to his feet as he heard Jackson calling as he came down the companionway.
"They're asking for the Captain, sir," Jackson reported grimly. "Mr Wilson told 'em he'll pass the word. They didn't ask for you by name."
Yorke turned to Ramage and said slowly, as though thinking aloud, "Let me talk to them. Better they think you're dead - or wounded, maybe, so the Marchesa isn't upset and doesn't do anything rash. I can tell 'em I'm in command. They won't think about Southwick."
Ramage thought for a moment. "That's a good idea. But even if she thinks I'm only wounded, Gianna might..."
"She will sir," Jackson said anxiously. "Perhaps Rossi..."
"Right, belay the talk and listen," Ramage said crisply, and quickly gave Yorke and Jackson their instructions. The three men then hurried up the companionway, Yorke and Jackson going forward while Ramage went aft to tell Southwick what was happening. The Master was sceptical at first but admitted, after a few moments' thought, that there was little choice.
Ramage hurried forward, where he could see the hatchway lit up by a lantern. Yorke was standing a yard or so to one side, the thick coaming shielding him in case a shot was fired from below. Wilson had placed his men forward of the hatch, so that any mutineers coming up the ladder would have to step into the ring of light from the lantern and be a perfect target. Jackson was whispering to Rossi, who was nodding vigorously.
After glancing round the deck for a place to hide out of sight but within earshot, Ramage finally ducked down on the after-side of the forward 4-pounder gun on the lee side.
Rossi went over to join Yorke while Jackson walked to the breech of the gun and whispered, "Everything's ready, sir. Do you think you'll be able to hear what's said?"
"I think so, but you can repeat it if necessary."
Then he heard Yorke call, "Send up your spokesman. One man, unarmed."
There was a pause as the mutineer replied.
Jackson whispered, "Didn't hear that, sir."
"This is Mr Yorke: I'm in command of the Arabella now, thanks to the Bosun and Harris."
Again Jackson could not hear the mutineers' reply.
Yorke called down the hatch, "You've no guarantee we won't seize your spokesman, but you're holding the Marchesa: she's enough security ... Very well, one man, and he stops at the top of the ladder."
A minute later Yorke said, "Right, stand there. Now, why did you want to see the Captain?"
"To give our orders!" said the mutineer.
"Go on, then," Yorke said mildly.
"You alter course immediately for Coruña. That's the first order."
"We are already on course for Coruña. The course for Falmouth and Coruña is the same until we get to Cabo Finisterra. Then we turn east to Coruña."
"Very well, see you do that."
"I didn't say we would," Yorke said sharply.
"We'll see about that in a minute," the mutineer sneered. "The second order is that you don't try to interfere with us."
"Go on."
"The third is you release Harris and the Bosun."
For a moment Ramage cursed himself: he hadn't anticipated that demand. What would Yorke do?
"You can have the Bosun this minute," Yorke said quietly.
"Right, send him here."
"He'll have to be carried. He'll be dead before you get him to the bottom of the ladder, though."
"How so?" the mutineer demanded.
"The surgeon's working hard this very moment to save his life."
"Wait," the mutineer said, and Jackson whispered to Ramage that he'd gone down the ladder. For a moment Ramage wondered whether to risk having Jackson pass a message to Yorke about Harris, then decided against it: Yorke was capable of dealing with that.
"Mutineer's back," Jackson whispered.
"Well, Mr Yorke, your orders from the mutineers are that the Bosun's life must be saved."
"I'm no surgeon and I can't perform miracles. Mr Bowen's doing his best, so don't be absurd."
"What about Harris, then?"
"Harris!" Yorke said with a sniff. "No surgeon can do anything for him!"
"Oh Gawd," the mutineer exclaimed. "We heard only one shot..."
"It only needs one," Yorke said crisply. "Now, you mutineers are trapped down on the messdeck; why the devil do you think I'm going to take any notice of so-called orders from you?"
"Because if you don't, we'll cut the Marchesa's throat."
"Whose idea is it to threaten to murder a helpless woman?" Yorke asked casually.
"Twas Harris's, God rest his soul; he was the one what planned to get us our liberty."
"Very well, what guarantee can you give that if I sail the ship to Coruña you'll free the Marchesa unharmed when we get there?"
The mutineer was silent for several moments, then went below again to consult with his shipmates.
"That was smart of Mr Yorke," Jackson whispered. "Everything he said was true but the fellow believes Harris is dead. Pity he isn't."
Two minutes passed before they heard Yorke ask, "Well? What have you got to offer."
"You've got our word of honour."
Yorke roared with laughter. "Do you think anyone in the world would accept the word of men who are guilty of murder, mutiny, kidnapping and blackmail? Are you drunk?" he asked suspiciously.
"But ... but we didn't do no murdering!"
"Oh yes you did! Eleven of you - I'll ignore the two boys - planned mutiny and kidnapping. If people get murdered in the process you're all equally guilty. Ask any judge."
Once again the mutineer was silent, and Yorke said, "You've got the Marchesa as a hostage. Very well, if I sail this ship to Coruña I want hostages from you. You hand over the Marchesa to me unharmed in Coruña, and I'll hand over my hostages unharmed."
"I'll have to ask my mates."
"Two hostages," Yorke said as the man went below.
Ramage knew the next two or three minutes were critical. If the six mutineers agreed, it would leave only four of them and the two cabin boys down on the messdeck: four men and the boys to guard both the hatch and Gianna. They might insist on one, and Yorke would have to agree, but it still left them weaker - and even one mutineer as a hostage for Gianna's safety was better than nothing. Would they insist on the release of the three packetsmen he had in irons?
Then Yorke was speaking to the mutineer again.
"One hostage, you say? One of you murderers as security for the life of the Marchesa? Don't be absurd," he said contemptuously.
"But what about the three of our mates who were on watch?" the mutineer asked lamely.
"In irons and lucky to be alive."