"Even tho' it could result in a sentence of death," Southwick said sharply.
"Right now I haven't a devil of a lot to live for," Ramage said bitterly. "My mother and father can't live forever, and I don't fancy wandering round St Kew Hall without Sarah for the rest of my life. It's a dam' big house and there are plenty of tenants on the land, and whoever runs it should have - well, some zest, and a wife, and that's what I lack now."
"Sir," said Southwick, "I'm going to presume on the length of my service with you and unless you order me not to, I'm going to speak my mind freely. I've talked it over with Mr Aitken, and to be honest, sir, you're worrying us, so what I have to say - if you'll allow me to say it - goes for both of us."
Ramage smiled and nodded. "I've never known you to ask permission before, but go on . . ."
"Well, sir, you've done more for King and country than most men, but apart from some of your despatches being published in the London Gazette, you've had no recognition and there are a lot of senior officers jealous of you. All that's normal. It took long enough for Their Lordships to give Lord Nelson his first real chance: those dam'd Antigua merchants nearly did for his career right at the start, when he went for 'em in the last war."
Ramage said impatiently: "I am not another Lord Nelson, Mr Southwick."
"No sir, but hear me out. There are some admirals who listen to what you say - Admiral Clinton off Brest let you go to Devil's Island on what must to him have seemed a flimsy story. Lord Spencer when he was First Lord gave you opportunities, and now Lord St Vincent has not signed that court-martial order from the Board, even though he is First Lord."
"He was attending a levee at letter-signing time," Ramage said. "Four other members of the Board had their pens ready - three is a quorum."
Southwick shook his head but said: "Have it your own way, sir. You can say you haven't had recognition for what you've done -"
"But I don't," Ramage interrupted. "I've had Gazettes, I'm on the Post List: I don't need anything else."
"Very well, sir, I'm wrong in that particular. But think of this: supposing you quit now, are found guilty but are not sentenced to death; dismissed the Service, say. You go back and watch your tenants, course hares, milk the cows and make butter and cheese at St Kew, and smile at the young maids and kiss the hands of the wives of the local gentry - and then you find that Lady Sarah is alive and (because by then the war has ended) is about to be released and come home. Now you think what she'll find. A disgraced husband with no fight in him. The bottle, that'll be your mistress by then, sir, the bottle and not even bothering with a glass.
"Sorry, sir. Overstood the mark, I have, but I'm not sorry, but you haven't been yourself for many weeks, and we all know how you were waiting for news of Lady Sarah when you got to Plymouth, and instead you had this crash on your head. But right now those of us who've picked you up for dead several times in the past can't see any wound or blood, and we wonder why you've given up fighting. Don't seem like you, sir. Lady Sarah'd be ashamed."
Ramage flushed but said nothing. There was nothing to say except to agree with Southwick, because the old man knew he was right and did not need Ramage to tell him so; in fact would be heartily embarrassed if he did.
Both Southwick and Aitken picked up their hats. Aitken put the list of witnesses on the desk while Southwick led the way to the door, muttering that they would be back later.
As the door closed behind them and Ramage noticed for the first time the whine of a high wind in the masts and riggings - it sounded as though a squall was sweeping down on them, and he saw rain running down the glass of the skylights - he realized that apart from the reference to recognition, there was nothing that Southwick had said that he disagreed with or could deny. It was a shameful admission to have to make, and he was ashamed that Southwick and Aitken had been forced into such a position. Then, thinking of their embarrassment - trying to put some backbone into their captain - he remembered phrases spoken by the Yorkes which had not, at the time, made much sense. Yes, and glances between Sidney and Alexis which he had intercepted and assumed were something that happened between brother and sister (not having a sister he did not know) but which he now recognized were glances of despair or silent pleas for help or support for something one of them had said.
He felt hot and ashamed: hot from the embarrassment that four people, one of them Alexis, had inspected him and found him weak, and ashamed that he had in fact mentally given up without openly admitting it. Given up, he told himself bitterly, because of the threat of being beaten by a madman, or the fear that, with Sarah probably dead, he had no purpose left.
No, he protested to himself, that was not the whole problem. A major part of it was the Articles of War. Anything reduced to paragraphs invariably ended up as nonsense when applied to a living situation. Admirals and captains, since the Byng court-martial and execution, had to fight any odds in battle, however stupid it might be and however much wiser it would be to wait for reinforcements or even decline action, because of a phrase in Article XII, the phrase that did for poor old Admiral Byng - "shall not do his utmost". This could find a man guilty whether he was an admiral or a cook's mate. What was a man's "utmost" and who, not there at the time, could determine the circumstances?
It was curious how Southwick could read his mind. Ramage had sensed that the old man knew Ramage was not more frightened of the death sentence than he was of being killed in action against the French. Death was death, a big black curtain. But Southwick (and almost certainly Aitken too) knew that the man who accepted death in battle would be ashamed of dying at the hands of a firing squad carrying out the sentence of a court-martial - the fate of Admiral Byng, who had been outraged at the government's original intention, which was to hang him. All governments were capable of the vindictiveness that went with brutish stupidity (the treatment of Byng showed that).
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The convoy sailed from the Sound next day and as Ramage and Southwick watched the ships weighing, shepherded by a frigate and two sloops, Southwick commented: "Admiral Goddard must be sure of himself ..."
Ramage, thinking of the brief letter from the deputy judge advocate which was now locked in his drawer, nodded in agreement. "Still, they haven't realized yet who the Yorkes are. As a shipowner, Mr Yorke's word will carry some weight."
"Maybe, and maybe not," Southwick said. "But don't let's anticipate too much unhappiness. Have you heard from your father, sir?"
"Not yet: there hasn't been time. But I want him to stay out of sight. The Press will eventually make a great song and dance, although the Morning Post is likely to be on my side. It has never liked the Prince of Wales and perhaps it doesn't like Admiral Goddard either! Anyway, don't forget it takes about a week for news to reach London from here."
Southwick gave one of his famous sniffs, this time clearly indicating contempt, and after looking round to make sure no one else was within earshot, said respectfully but firmly: "Never lose sight of one thing, sir: it's what happens at the trial on board the Salvador del Mundo that matters.