The private signal was hoisted; a few Tritons near the fore-hatch speculated in bloodcurdling detail about the imminent fate of the mutineers below.
Ramage saw one of the Tritons suddenly go to the hatch, listen a few moments and then wave urgently to Much, who was standing a few feet away. The Mate called something down to the mutineers, listened, then hurried aft.
"The mutineers, sir," he reported to Ramage. "They're asking to see the Captain: they say it's urgent!"
"Tell them the Captain is coming, but their spokesman is to stay at the bottom of the ladder, If he got a chance to look round the horizon..."
Much went forward as Yorke came over to Ramage and asked, "They want to bargain?"
"Perhaps. They might offer to free Gianna now in return for their freedom and immunity from arrest. That's their best plan."
"And we accept?"
Ramage nodded. "We accept anything that gets Gianna out of there safely."
"Anything?"
"Look, we argued about the ethics of all this last night," Ramage said quietly. "So go and hear what they have to say."
Ramage followed Yorke and crouched down behind the gun, where he could hear one side of the dialogue. Yorke stood close to the hatch to make sure the mutineers' spokesman stayed at the foot of the ladder.
"Well, what d'you want?" he demanded in an uncompromising voice. "Bargain? You think I'm going to bargain with a bunch of mutineers when there's one of our frigates up to windward?"
.Ramage peered round the breech of the gun. From the beginning he had known there was only one move the mutineers might make that would wreck his plan. He had tried to increase the odds against them thinking of it by pretending a French frigate was closing in, but he dared not keep that up for too long because of the danger that they would panic if the frigate's identity changed at the very last moment. Had he applied the pressure too soon? Given them a few extra minutes to recognize that they still had a weapon?
Yorke was tense as he stood listening; then he took a step forward, as though angry enough to want to seize the man at the foot of the ladder. He spoke slowly and distinctly, as though determined the mutineers should not misunderstand him.
"You are threatening cold-blooded murder. A completely pointless murder. A murder that can gain you nothing. The moment you committed such a foul act we would be down there and I swear that within thirty seconds not one of you would be left alive."
And as Yorke listened to the mutineer's reply, Ramage knew he had lost the gamble: it had been a ten to one chance that they would think of it. Reasonable odds. But when you gambled you needed luck or a big purse, and his purse contained only Gianna's life. Yet perhaps he was wrong: perhaps they were demanding something else. Yorke's reply would -
"I can't stop that frigate coming down to us!" Yorke said angrily. "What do you expect me to do? Shout a couple of miles? For all I know the Admiralty has sent her out to escort us to England. What do I do then? Tell her captain we don't need him? He'll want to know where Mr Ramage is. What do I say? How do I explain why I'm in command? Dammit," Yorke exploded, "he'll probably think I'm a mutineer!"
He paused as the mutineer said something, then declared abruptly, "I'm going to talk it over with Mr Southwick. Stay there; the sentry up here has orders to shoot anyone who sticks his head over the coaming."
Ramage got up and hurried aft, where Yorke joined him and asked wrathfully, "You heard all that?"
"Only your side of it."
"They say they'll kill the Marchesa if I let the frigate approach."
"What good to they think that'll do them?" Ramage asked quietly.
"They say if the frigate sends a boarding party they'll be shot or hanged anyway, so they've nothing more to lose if they kill the Marchesa as well. The scoundrel reminded me they couldn't be killed twice."
Ramage nodded. "I hoped they'd be too scared to think of forcing us to keep the frigate away. Or if they did, they'd decide it would be impossible."
He rubbed the scars over his brow and saw Southwick shaking his head, occupied in his own thoughts. Then the old Master came over to him and said quietly, "Don't chance anything, sir; they're desperate men. I'd sooner go into Coruña and hand myself over to the Spanish than risk the Marchesa being harmed."
"Me too," Yorke said, "and the Devil take the report to the First Lord. Anyway, even if this horse won't start, you've still got another in the stable."
"Aye," Southwick said, "we can pretend the frigate is satisfied with the private signal and goes about her business. It gives us a bit more time. We can't risk calling their bluff, sir..."
And Ramage knew both men were right; his gamble had failed but, as Yorke had said, there was still one more chance. "Very well," he told Yorke, "tell them you and Southwick will try to reassure the frigate. Say you can't make any promises - and remind 'em we have the Bosun and some mutineers up here in irons..."
"They've thought about that," Yorke said. "The fellow said they were all in the same position, whether they were down on the messdeck or in irons. He's right, too," he added ruefully.
Twenty minutes later, with the imaginary frigate dropping astern on its way to Lisbon, apparently reassured by the Arabella's private signal, Yorke came back after reporting the fact to the mutineers.
"They say that someone can talk to the Marchesa this afternoon," he told Ramage. "They refused to agree to Rossi at first, but I said she might want some woman's things that she'd be too embarrassed to shout about in front of a lot of strangers, whereas speaking in her own language to Rossi..."
"Thanks," Ramage said. "Let's go down to my cabin; I'm so damned depressed."
Sitting in the same chairs, with the carpet still damp where a couple of seamen had tried to scrub away the stains of the Bosun's blood, Yorke said, "It looks as though we've no choice but to head for Coruña."
"You don't think the second plan will work?"
"I'm afraid not. They're really desperate down there. If you'd seen that bloody man's eyes..." He shuddered at the thought.
"But you realize that now we can't risk going into Coruña, don't you?" Ramage asked quietly.
"It's our only chance of saving the Marchesa's life," Yorke said bluntly.
Ramage shook his head. "On the contrary, it's a sure way of having them kill her. Their reaction to our 'frigate' shows that. Why do you suppose I said I was depressed? Look, the Navy's blockading both Coruña and Ferrol. There's probably a squadron of our 74-gun ships in the offing; certainly two or three of our frigates within a few miles. Their job is to prevent any vessel getting in or out, whether a ship of the line or a fishing boat. They'll see us trying to get in and we'll be boarded. There's no way we can prevent it. And we know the mutineers will kill Gianna the moment a British ship gets within hail. Signal to our hearts' content, send a boat over with a letter of explanation ... the fact is no frigate captain would believe our story and certainly wouldn't let us go in to surrender the ship to the Dons."
"Supposing you went over and spoke to him?"
"He'd probably put me under arrest because he'd think I was deserting to the enemy. Wouldn't you, in his position?"
"He could come on board and see for himself."
Ramage stared at him. "That's the point! If you were one of those mutineers, what would you do the moment you knew the frigate captain had come on board?"
Yorke held his hands out, palms upwards, in a gesture of despair.
"What in God's name can we do then? They'll kill her if we don't go to Coruña; yet they'll kill her if we do and get intercepted. Are you absolutely sure our blockade is as close as that?" he asked.
"Certain. Ask Southwick. No," he said when Yorke shook his head, "I'd be glad if you did, because I will if you don't. I want to be certain."