Ramage guessed that by a bitter irony it was probably Much's report that made Stevens decide to break his promise to the Mate: knowledge of how fast the rot was spreading meant it would need only slight pressure from Farrell to make Stevens surrender the ship at the first opportunity.
"Supposing he hadn't known the stern was rotten," Ramage mused. "I wonder what he'd have done about the Rossignol."
"I'd only be guessing," Much admitted, "but I think he might have run. Farrell might have been able to persuade him not to fight if he couldn't get away, but I think he'd have made a more effective attempt to escape." The Mate thought for a few moments and then added wearily, "I'm not sure, though. I begin to wonder."
"Of course," Yorke said casually, "One mustn't forget Stevens does own the ship; up to a point, he can decide what he does."
"I'm not disputing that," Ramage said grimly, guessing Yorke was leading up to something else. "He could own a bank or an abbey as well, but he doesn't own the bags of mail, and treason is still treason."
"Don't pick on him alone," Yorke advised. "Don't forget the other commanders. They surrendered simply because of insurance on the ventures, not because their ships had rotten sterns. Incidentally, Much my dear fellow, bearing in mind we'd all like to stay afloat, were you exaggerating a few minutes ago about the extent of the rot?"
"No, I wasn't. I told Captain Stevens we ought to get some precautionary work done before we left Kingston: doubling some frames for example, and making sure the gudgeons and pintles were held in good wood, in case we lost the rudder. But there wasn't time: the Agent wanted us to sail almost at once, and naturally the Captain didn't want to tell him about it. He wants to get full value for a sound ship."
"So our chances of reaching anywhere safely would make a professional gambler go pale?"
"Faint clean away," Much said, in the most cheerful tone of voice Ramage had yet heard him use.
"The rot," Ramage said. "Presumably it's very obvious?"
"Some of it - if you start looking. I had some lining ripped out. But from on deck, no; that was all painted over again a'fore we reached Kingston, in case we shipped some nosy passengers."
"Like Mr Yorke and me."
"Exactly, sir."
Bowen said: "When will you tackle Kerguelen, sir?"
"After breakfast."
"Why not wait a day or two?" Yorke asked. "After all, you said yourself the chances of this packet being recaptured increase every day."
"I'm not a gambler," Ramage said. "Not unless I have to be. And if Kerguelen meets a British frigate he'll try to make a bolt for it. Firing those stern-chasers might be fatal - for all of us."
"Yes, you're right," Yorke conceded. "The sooner he puts his helm down - gently! - the better."
"We'll ask to see him when they bring breakfast," Ramage said.
Kerguelen sat down on the bunk as though paying a social call and ran a hand almost apologetically over the stubble on his face. "You gentlemen are so freshly shaven ... You asked to see me."
"We have a business proposal to make," Ramage said bluntly.
"So?" Kerguelen's eyebrows lifted, and he smiled ironically as he glanced round the cabin. "Banking ... shipping ... armaments...?"
"Shipping," Ramage said.
"It's an interesting business. Banking is dull, and armaments so noisy. What is the proposal?"
Ramage picked up one of the chessmen left on the board and tapped the table with it. "I'm gambling on this voyage, and so are you. I'm betting the Arabella will be recaptured before we reach St Malo; you're wagering you'll be able to dodge any British ships. What do you reckon the odds are?"
"Even," Kerguelen said promptly. "Perhaps slightly in your favour."
"But neither of us wants to lose."
Kerguelen shrugged his shoulders. "But one of us has to!"
"No," Ramage said. "That's why we asked to see you."
"A moment," Kerguelen said warily, glancing at the door, "if you have any trick in mind, I warn you..."
Ramage shook his head. "No tricks, I promise you. Our proposal is this: instead of taking the Arabella to France from Lisbon and selling her in St Malo for whatever you can get, will you sell her to us in Lisbon for an agreed price?"
Kerguelen's jaw dropped. "Do you have money with you?"
The Britons burst out laughing, and Kerguelen said sheepishly, "Well, how do you pay if you have no money?"
The Frenchman was showing interest; Ramage was sure of that. French money was not a popular currency these days - particularly with privateers trying to use it to buy timber and rope from Baltic or Portuguese merchants.
"You're already bound for a neutral port," Ramage said. "If we can't raise the money in Lisbon we can have it sent out from London."
"Oh no! You aren't going to be allowed on shore: it would be too easy for you to escape."
"We would give our parole," Ramage said stiffly. "Anyway, only one of us need go on shore for a couple of hours to arrange it. You keep us on board until you get the money, then you hand the ship over to us."
Kerguelen frowned and Ramage realized that he was still looking for the trap. He hoped Much would remember his instructions.
"What sort of price had you in mind?" the Frenchman asked.
"What price would you get in St Malo?"
"You can't expect me to show the cards in my hand," the Frenchman said. "You make an offer."
Ramage hated bargaining: having no experience of business, it embarrassed him. He glanced helplessly at Yorke.
"We offer £2,500 for the ship and our freedom, paid to you in cash at Lisbon."
Kerguelen made a mental calculation and then shook his head.
"I'm sorry, because the idea appeals to me, but I can get a lot more in St Malo; enough to make me take a chance with your cruisers."
Yorke said, "Don't make any mistake, M'sieur: the money comes out of our own pockets."
"Have you no influence?"
"It takes more than influence to prise money out of a government !"
Kerguelen nodded, but Ramage thought the Frenchman feared a trap and was going to turn down the proposal. The moment had come to show his hand.
"Before you refuse our offer, go and inspect the transom of this vessel. It won't take long: you can poke around with a knife or punch with your fist."
"What are you saying?" Kerguelen demanded as Ramage glanced at the Mate.
"He's saying," Much interrupted suddenly, "that you'll be lucky to make Lisbon, let alone St Malo, before the stern drops off. It's all rotten. And don't risk firing one o' the stern-chasers, either!"
"Parbleu!" Kerguelen exclaimed and hurriedly left the cabin. The door shut and once again the key turned in the lock.
"We may get a bargain yet," Yorke said. "I think we've set the right price, and Much's bombshell about the rot was perfectly timed."
"I'd even settle for St Malo if someone'd give me a guarantee we'd get there," Much muttered, "what with the rot and these cut-throats."
They had to wait for more than half an hour before Kerguelen returned, looking worried and nervous. He sat down on the bunk again, his fingers drumming on his knees. "It's bad. This man wasn't exaggerating."
"Wish I had been," Much said.
"But why did you sail from Kingston? She's not safe. Andwhy are you offering to buy a rotten ship?" asked Kerguelen.
"Our offer isn't for the ship alone: we want our freedom as well," Ramage said.
"There's no precedent," Kerguelen said, half to himself. "But it's like a ransom."