Governor Ramage RN

Chapter Nineteen

Ramage woke with a steward standing beside his cot, a lantern in one hand and a tray in the other.

"Dawn, sir," the steward said cheerfully. "Wind from the north at five knots, and no cloud. Plenty of mosquitoes, though."

He hung the lantern from a hook in a beam overhead.

"I'll put your breakfast here on the table, sir. There's a jug of hot water for shaving and I'll go and get you some more water for washing. My hands were full."

Ramage grunted, rubbed his eyes and wondered why the officers for whom the steward worked had not trained him to bring washing and shaving water first, and breakfast later. He sat up and carefully swung himself out of the cot. The cabin was airless and hot, and his body felt greasy. His teeth seemed coated with wool, his mouth tasted as though he had been sucking a penny and he had a headache.

The steward brought in a basin of water, soap and towel, and Ramage had a brisk wash, then lathered his face and shaved with great care, using a broken mirror held to the bulkhead by three bent nails. He rinsed his face, wiped it, and slowly dressed, smoothing the wrinkles from the silk stockings, pulling on his breeches and tucking the tail of the shirt in with as much deliberation as a dowager dressing for a court ball. By the time he had tied his stock, combed his hair and sat down to his breakfast he had succeeded in keeping his mind closed to the thought of the forthcoming trial.

He sipped the coffee, almost cold by now, nibbled at some bread and left the rest of the food. Finally, he put the tray down on the deck and took the pen and paper out of his pocket.

He wrote "Defence" across the top of the page and underlined it carefully. No thoughts came to him, so he wrote out from memory the tenth Article of War, pleased that he could even remember all the capital letters.

"Every Flag Officer, Captain, and Commander in the Fleet, who, upon Signal or Order of Fight, or sight of any Ship or Ships which it may be his Duty to engage, or who, upon Likelihood of Engagement, shall not make the necessary Preparations for Fight, and shall not in his own Person, and according to his Place, encourage the inferior Officers and Men to fight courageously, shall suffer Death, or such other punishment ... a Court martial shall deem him to deserve; and if any Person in the Fleet shall treacherously or cowardly yield or cry for quarter, every Person so offending ... shall suffer death."

Good stirring stuff, Ramage thought bitterly, but what the devil had it to do with the fact that he had successfully beaten off the Peacock's attack on the Topaz?

Of course, it had none; but the Admiral was accusing him of not engaging the Peacock. Everyone would have to admit that in the darkness they saw the Triton's guns firing. By skilful questioning the Admiral could make the officers serving on board the Lion admit that they could not be sure how close the Triton was and that some of the flashes could have been from the Greyhound frigate. Did the Triton's crew fight courageously? Only the Triton's officers and men could answer that one, and who would believe their evidence? Obviously they would say that they had for fear they too would be charged under the past part of the same Article.

He began writing again, this time the twelfth Article of War.

"Every Person in the Fleet, who through Cowardice, Negligence, or Disaffection, shall in Time of Action withdraw or keep back, or not come into the Fight or Engagement, or shall not do his utmost to take or destroy every Ship which it shall be his Duty to engage, and to assist and relieve all and every of His Majesty's Ships, or those of His Allies, which it shall be his Duty to assist and relieve, every such Person so offending ... shall suffer death."

Well, that was really the trump card. It was the one under which Admiral John Byng had been accused in 1756; the one under which he was shot on the St George's quarterdeck.

The first Article was obviously intended to muzzle the Triton's officers - to discredit their evidence, anyway. The second was the one with which Goddard planned to hang him. Ramage remembered they'd intended to hang Admiral Byng, until the old man protested at the indignity and traded the rope for a Marine firing squad ...

It had been dark and the officers in the Lion could be made to say the Triton attacked the Peacock dangerously late and at long range. "Or keep back", the Article said. Engaging from a safe range was "keeping back". That was all Goddard had to prove, and without evidence from the Greyhound or the Topaz it wouldn't be difficult.

If Ramage managed to slip through all those traps there was still the twenty-seventh Article. He wrote down:

"The Officers and Seamen of all ships, appointed for Convoy and Guard of Merchant Ships, or of any other, shall diligently attend to that Charge ... and whosoever shall be faulty therein, and shall not faithfully perform their Duty, and defend the Ships and Goods in their Convoy, without diverting to other Parts or Occasions, or refusing or neglecting to fight in their Defence, if they be assailed, or running away cowardly, and submitting the Ships of their Convoy to Peril and Hazard ... be punished criminally according to the Quality of their Offences, be it by Pains of Death, or other punishment, according as shall be adjudged fit by the Court martial."

Having written the three Articles, Ramage took a fresh sheet, once again wrote "Defence" across the top and once again found himself staring at the single word on the page several minutes later.

He needed a walk round the deck in the fresh air. Perhaps a look up at the Arrogant''s starboard fore yardarm would sharpen his wits. He banged on the door, called the sentry and told him to pass the word for the marshal.

The Marine lieutenant was there, opening the door, before the man had time to call.

"What do you want?"

"Good morning," Ramage said politely.

"Oh - good morning. You..."

"Want some exercise."

"You can't-"

"Then send for the surgeon."

"Why, you're not ill - are you?"

"I'll want a certificate to postpone the trial."

"What on earth are-"

"I have a splitting headache and I can't work on my defence."

"Your defence!" the man sneered. "It shouldn't take very long to write that out!"

"The surgeon," Ramage said and sat down abruptly.

"Oh, very well! Half an hour's walk, then."

Up on deck it promised to be a fine day; with luck the Trade winds would set in early and keep a breeze blowing through the great cabin. As Ramage paced up and down, with the marshal following a few steps behind, he looked round at the anchored ships.

At least five captains would be cursing at the thought of having to spend the day sitting at his trial - a minimum of five were necessary to form a court martial - but the thought gave him no satisfaction and he paced up and down. He watched seamen go to the flag locker, secure two sequences of flags to the signal halyards, and then hoist them smartly after tying them into neat bundles.

Ramage watched idly as the first bundle reached the block and one of the seamen gave a sharp tug on the halyard to break it out

Automatically Ramage read the signal. Number 223. He couldn't remember the exact wording, but it was to the effect that flag officers, captains, commanders and anyone else concerned in the court martial that had been ordered were to report on board the ship whose name would be pointed out. A few minutes later the signal was hauled down and another one run up. The flags breaking out gave the Arrogant's pendant number.

Then, showing they had been ready, the Union flag streamed out from the Arrogant’s mizen peak, indicating that a court martial was to be held on board.

His own court martial! It seemed unreal, remote and so distant from its cause, that wild night when the Triton's carronades were cutting swathes through the boarders covering the Peacock's deck, and Jackson was blazing away at her helmsmen with a musketoon. In reality the court-martial flag now flying from the Arrogant had its origins in the trial of his father. Linking that trial and this was one man, Jebediah Arbuthnot Goddard, then a captain and now Rear-Admiral of the White.

He pulled out his watch. A minute past seven. The trial began in an hour and a half.

Ransom, the provost marshal, who had been standing against the taffrail, came up to Ramage.

"Come on, back to your cell."

"Cell?"

"Cabin, then."

"Do you have to be so obviously crude and unpleasant? I've not been found guilty yet."

"You will be," Ransom sneered.

"If I'm not, you'd better watch yourself," Ramage said angrily. "You're behaving more like a jackal than a gentleman. Just make sure the body's dead before you get to work."

"Carrion," Ransom said viciously, "all carrion!"

At that moment someone called Ransom's name. The voice was contemptuous, and it sounded familiar. Ramage looked round to see Captain Croucher standing watching, his eyes glittering like a lizard's under the jutting eyebrows. He looked angry and Ramage turned away so that neither man should think he was trying to eavesdrop. Croucher made no particular attempt to keep his voice low, however, and Ramage heard a few words here and there.

"... think you're doing? ... you can at least try ... gentleman ... only accused ... even if condemned ... might ... your turn one day..."

A chastened Ransom came back. Croucher had frightened him.

"My lord," he said, "we'd better go below."

"I don't use my title," Ramage snapped. "You know that!"

"Er - yes, as you please."

Ramage went down to the cabin puzzled by Croucher's behaviour. Clearly the man had overheard Ramage's exchange with Ransom, but why was Croucher, of all people, concerned about the way Ramage was being treated by the acting provost marshal? He was not a man to do another a good turn unless he had a reason. Had Goddard's behaviour in the hurricane brought about a change of heart?

An hour later the Lion's yawl was alongside the Arrogant and Ramage climbed up the side and stood watching as Ransom scrambled after him, carrying both their swords. When he finally managed to get on board without falling, Ramage could not resist saying: "Next time you're appointed a provost marshal, don't let the prisoner surrender his sword until you're both on board the ship where the trial's being held. You might drop it and find yourself being sued for a hundred guineas for a new one."

The Marine lieutenant flushed, and one of the Arrogant’s lieutenants, obviously the officer of the day, said unsympathetically, "He's right, you know; only a fool goes up a ship's side with two swords, and you seem to be clumsier than most!"

He turned to Ramage.

"The presence of our military friend here makes me think you are probably the unfortunate fellow inscribed on my list as Lieutenant Ramage, the prisoner'."

Ramage grinned and gave a mock bow. " 'Lieutenant Ramage-the-Prisoner' at your service."

The lieutenant marked his list and turned to the provost marshal.

"And you, my nimble friend, are probably the King's bad bargain herein listed as 'Lieutenant Ransom, acting provost marshal upon the occasion', and if you'll but nod your head, I'll bestow a tick against the name as a slight token of my approval."

Ransom nodded dumbly, overwhelmed by the lieutenant's bantering manner.

"Well," the lieutenant continued, "you have committed the ultimate social solecism by arriving too early for the ball. Numerous brave and distinguished post captains must first board us, not to mention an admiral named God Ard, or should it be 'ard God?, and dance the opening minuet before you'll be allowed to blunder on to the floor and fall flat on your face because you've got your sword caught between your legs. Ah me," he said, with a delicate yawn, "what pitfalls face an acting provost marshal. You'll have earned your four shillings a day by the time the sun sets."

He turned to Ramage: "If you're planning to escape, be pleased to wait until after the end of my watch: t'would be a pity if my remarkably promising career was brought to an untimely end for failing to stop you. The Navy can't afford to lose brilliant young men like me."

"How could you possibly think I'd be so thoughtless?" Ramage said. "Only a bounder would escape before the forenoon watch."

"I'm glad you see things my way," the lieutenant said, "such a pleasure to deal with a gentleman: we seem to be getting such a poor class of fellow these days, don't you agree?"

"Indeed," Ramage said gravely. "Very poor."

"Yes, a sad business. What did you say your name was?" he asked the Marine suddenly.

"Alfred Ransom."

The lieutenant turned to Ramage in mock despair. "Alfred - you see what I mean? And where the devil did you get that surname? Was your grandfather a kidnapper? Or just a plain moneylender whose rates of interest made his unfortunate clients think of ransom?"

Before the Marine had time to answer the lieutenant waved him away. "Go and walk round the belfry - here come some of Mr Ramage's judges. Captain Ormsby, closely followed by Captain Robinson of the Valiant, are about to grace us with their presence."

Ramage and Ransom walked the Arrogant's deck for more than half an hour as the captains arrived from their ships. Rossi was acting as coxswain of La Perla's little boat and brought over Southwick, Appleby, Jackson and Stafford. As the Italian called out orders for the boat to leave the Arrogant's side he caught sight of Ramage and, still looking ahead, said loudly in a broad Neapolitan accent, "Sta tranquille, comandante!"

Ramage smiled down at him, and then looked over at Jackson and Stafford. It was unlikely that they had ever been so smartly turned out before; Ramage had the feeling that everyone on board La Perla must have sorted through his wardrobe to find the best shirts and trousers for the two men.

The court martial was due to open in fifteen minutes, and Ramage saw the Lion's launch coming from the shore. The fat figure in the stern sheets was unmistakable.

The lieutenant at the gangway turned to Ramage and, waving at the launch with his list, said: "The last guest invited to your reception."

Ramage nodded. "Thanks for your help. You have an invitation?"

"No, but I may drop in."

"Do, it passes away an idle hour or so."

With Rear-Admiral Goddard waddling aft and entering the great cabin, the court was within moments of assembling.

"Come on, Ramage, they've passed the word for us."

The seven captains ordered to the trial had gone into the great cabin and read out the dates of their commissions. Captain Napier, commanding the Arrogant and appointed president of the court, had seated them round the table in order of seniority. Syme, the fussy little deputy judge advocate, would have all his papers sorted out, quills sharpened, inkwell full, spectacles polished and Bible and Crucifix ready for administering the oath. Rear-Admiral Goddard was in there, with his faithful Hobson, ready to act as prosecutor. Croucher was there too, among the witnesses.

It was supposed to be a big day for Goddard. As far as he was concerned it would be the end of a vendetta, the end of a very long-drawn-out act of revenge against Admiral the Earl of Blazey. The night before, Ramage had wondered how he would feel walking these last few feet into the cabin. What he felt was anger. Anger that had come in the past few moments when he reflected that Goddard was not attacking him but his father. By attacking the Earl's son he was dealing the old man a blow against which he had no defence. Goddard was an assassin moving out silently in a dark Neapolitan street and striking with a stiletto ... A cowardly blow, an unnecessary blow and perhaps a lethal blow. Goddard hoped that getting the son hanged for cowardice would shame the father into an early grave - the mother, too. Death before dishonour, or if not before, then dam' soon after. Every man's weakest point, his Achilles' heel, was his family. That was something Goddard had known all along.

Men like the Marine lieutenant, trotting along behind now and puffed up with the importance of being "provost marshal upon the occasion", were the jackals, content with snapping at the scraps. The Goddards of this world were the hyenas; bigger and more vicious, and although not brave, so greedy that occasionally they would leap on a badly wounded animal and drag it to the ground.

The sentry at the door of the great cabin snapped to attention and as Ramage removed his hat before going through the door Ransom pushed him aside, chest stuck out, shoulders back, Ramage's sword tucked under his left arm like a telescope, and marched into the cabin. Exasperated, Ramage stopped outside the door and watched Ransom striding in, straight to the two empty chairs, one for the prisoner and one behind it for the provost marshal.

Eight captains, counting Croucher, an admiral, the deputy judge advocate, several lieutenants, Southwick, Appleby, Jackson, Stafford and various other witnesses, watched as Ransom marched. He halted, stamping his feet, and turned to direct his prisoner to the chair.

The Captain seated at the head of the table raised his eyebrows.

"Pray, what are you supposed to be doing, lieutenant?"

Ransom looked round wildly. "My prisoner!"

"You are acting as the provost marshal?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Well, your prisoner appears to have eluded you."

"I - well, sir, he was ... I have his sword!"

"We need the prisoner, lieutenant," the Captain said. "You are from the Lion, I assume?"

"Yes, sir," Ransom stammered.

"I thought so," Napier murmured. "Run along and fetch your prisoner."

Ramage, standing just outside the door, was puzzled by Napier's reference to the Lion - it seemed a calculated snub to Croucher ... He stepped into the cabin before Ransom was halfway to the door, gave a slight bow, and walked deliberately to the empty chair as if Ransom did not exist.

Syme, the deputy judge advocate, had stood up and half turned to watch him. Goddard was looking away, pretending complete indifference.

"Sit down," Captain Napier said, "I want to sort out some papers."

The President was giving Ramage a minute or two to get his bearings. A long table covered with a green baize cloth ran almost the width of the cabin, and eight men sat round it. At the head was Napier, with Syme opposite him at the foot. Three captains sat down one side and three the other, and Ramage knew they were sitting in order of seniority left and right of Napier, with the juniors at the bottom, next to Syme. Ramage's chair was four feet from the table on Syme's left. An empty chair, for witnesses, was four feet from Syme's right hand. Clear of the table and over on Captain Napier's left sat Rear-Admiral Goddard, as prosecutor, with Hobson in another chair just behind him.

Standing in a group behind Admiral Goddard were the witnesses: Croucher, Southwick, several lieutenants - presumably the Lion's officers - and, not looking at all ill-at-ease, Jackson and Stafford.

Captain Napier took out his watch, put it down on the table in front of him, rapped with his knuckles and said in a clipped, incisive voice: "Gentlemen, it is half past eight o'clock: the court is in session. Admiral" - he turned to Goddard - "can you see that all the witnesses for the prosecution are here?"

Goddard nodded indifferently.

"Mr Ramage - are your witnesses all here?"

"All the witnesses I was able to assemble in the time available, sir."

"Very well: I shall ask that question again when the court is sworn and it can be noted in the minutes."

Ramage looked at him and thought that Captain Napier had a real interest in administering justice. Admiral Goddard was staring at Napier with the look a man might give his wife at a reception if she suddenly announced that she had discovered certain of his defects. Ramage had a feeling that Captain Napier's name must be near the top of the captains' list, so near that he could soon expect his flag. Too senior and self-confident to be unduly impressed by Goddard.

Napier rapped the table again. "Carry on, Mr Syme."

The deputy judge advocate stood up, adjusted his spectacles, picked up a single sheet of paper and, after looking round at all the captains, began reading Sir Pilcher Skinner's order for the court martial. Then he read: "By Vice-Admiral Sir Pilcher Skinner ... Commander-in-Chief of His Majesty's ships ... at Jamaica ... a court martial to try Lieutenant Nicholas Ramage, of his Majesty's late ship the Triton, on various charges laid by Rear-Admiral Goddard ... I do ... hereby authorize you to execute the office of judge advocate upon the above occasion. For which this shall be your warrant."

Syme looked round, as if half expecting someone to challenge it.

"This is addressed to Harold Syme, esquire," he added pompously.

Napier nodded, and the man reached down for another page.

Napier was a tall man with iron-grey hair, an aquiline nose and eyes revealing a shrewd sense of humour. He had an indefinable air of authority and Ramage guessed that he was a man who commanded without ever raising his voice.

Syme began reading again, this time the seven names, listed in seniority beginning with Napier, of the men forming the court. He glanced to the left or right as he reached each name; Captain Lockyer, a plump, fatherly man who reminded Ramage of Southwick, sat on the President's left, and Captain Robinson, sandy-haired, red-faced and looking young despite his seniority, sat on his right. Woodgate sat next to him and Hamilton sat next to Lockyer. Ramage looked at Hamilton again. He was a nondescript man except for his eyes. They were spaced wide apart and blue and they looked shifty. Ormsby, at the end of the table on the President's left, was young and obviously flustered. The single epaulet on his right shoulder showed he had less than three years' seniority. Innes, opposite him, also had less than three years' seniority and was a plump young man who looked as if he was more at home astride a horse on the hunting field than commanding a ship of war.

Now Syme picked up the Bible and walked round the table to Napier. Putting the Bible in front of him he said, his voice taking on a monotone in deference to the solemn occasion:

"Place your right hand on the Holy Evangelist and repeat your Christian and surnames."

Napier stood and said: "James Royston Napier."

Syme then read out, phrase by phrase, the oath by which Napier swore "I will duly administer justice according to my conscience, the best of my understanding and the custom of the Navy in like cases..."

After Syme had administered the same oath to the other six captains, Napier administered an oath of secrecy to Syme, who then went back to his seat.

As Napier looked round the cabin, he had as much moral authority over its occupants as a judge.

"Read the charges, Mr Syme, slowly and audibly."

Syme looked up indignantly, stung by the instruction, but he obeyed. As he read, Ramage looked across at Goddard. The man wiped his face once, then sat with his hands clasped, staring at the deck a few feet in front of him.

Ramage saw a squalid opportunist grasping plump hands together like an ingratiating undertaker. The man had risen quickly in the Navy and had enormous "interest". One day he might well achieve the highest rank - providing he never had to lead a Fleet into action. He was not a man that lowly lieutenants would choose as an enemy ... But, Ramage thought ruefully, the choice had not been up to this lowly lieutenant; Goddard had chosen him.

Napier turned to Goddard as Syme finished his reading.

"Your first witness, sir?"

Goddard pointed to Croucher.

"All other witnesses leave the court," Napier said, waving to Syme.

Syme motioned Captain Croucher to the chair on his right as the rest of the witnesses left the cabin. A dozen other people, among them the lieutenant whose breezy manner had so cheered Ramage at the gangway, sat at the back of the cabin.

Croucher gave his name and took the oath without once glancing at Goddard.

Syme looked severely at both Goddard and Croucher, as though they had never attended a court martial before, and said: "You must give me time to write down each question before it is answered. And then give me time to write down the answer."

Goddard gestured to Hobson, who was holding several sheets of paper in his hand.

"The first questions are written down."

Goddard and his cronies seemed to have prepared the case well. If the prosecutor had the questions written on slips of paper which were passed to the deputy judge advocate to read aloud the accused had to answer at once. If the prosecutor spoke the question so the deputy judge advocate could write it down and then address it to the accused, it gave the prisoner time to think about his answer. With the question already written down, the deputy judge advocate need only number it, make a note of the number in his minute of the trial, and ask the question at once.

Hobson went over to stand by Syme, handing him a page with the first question. Before the deputy judge advocate had time to read it, Captain Napier said: "Has the accused all his witnesses available?"

"No, I have only those immediately available."

Ramage had already thought through the probable sequence of question and answer, and now that the court was sitting there was little Goddard could do even if he suspected that there was some sort of a trap behind Ramage's carefully chosen words.

"What do you mean by 'immediately available'?" Napier asked.

"Only those that could attend the court when it opened, sir."

Syme jammed his spectacles back on his nose. "All those on the list you gave me are present," he said angrily.

"Quite," Ramage said.

"What do you mean by that?" Napier asked.

"In view of the gravity of the charges I face, sir - all of them are capital - and my present lack of witnesses, I hope that the court will be indulgent should any other witnesses become available."

Would Napier just leave it at that or demand more details? Ramage tried to look nonchalant.

"Very well. Carry on, Mr Syme."

"I haven't noted all that down yet," Syme said sourly, and Ramage guessed that the deputy judge advocate had been so absorbed in what was being said that he had forgotten to write.

Hobson handed him the first page.

"Were you," he asked Croucher, "commanding the Lion on the eighteenth day of July last when, during an attack upon a ship of the convoy, His Majesty's ship Triton did -"

"Stop!" Napier snapped. "Strike that from the record." He looked directly at the Admiral. "The prosecution is no doubt aware of the meaning of the phrase 'leading question'?"

When Goddard said nothing, Napier said quietly: "The court requires an answer. First," he said to Syme, "note my question in the minutes."

When he saw Syme had written it, he motioned to Goddard.

"The prosecution understands," the Admiral said grudgingly.

"Very well. The deputy judge advocate will read written questions carefully before speaking them aloud. Carry on."

For a moment or two Ramage wondered why Napier was on his side and then realized that he was not. He was just conducting the trial impartially. Ramage's only previous experience of a court martial was the one staged - and "staged" was the right word - by Croucher, in Bastia. There the President had used his position to twist everything in favour of the prosecution.

Goddard decided to abandon the written questions, frame new ones, and speak them aloud.

"What were you doing on the eighteenth day of July?"

"I was commanding His Majesty's ship Lion."

"What were your duties?"

"Flying the flag of the Rear-Admiral and escorting a convoy from Barbados to Jamaica."

"Was there any unusual occurrence that night?"

"Yes, a French privateer attacked one of the ships."

"What was that ship's position in the convoy?"

"Leading the starboard column."

"Where was the Lion at this time?"

"In her proper position ahead of the centre column of the convoy."

"Which of the King's ships was closest to the merchantman that was attacked?"

"The Triton brig."

"Who commanded the Triton!"

"The accused."

"How was the attack made on the merchant ship, and what was the merchantman's name?"

"The ship was the Topaz. The privateer came up from astern, following the line of ships, and went alongside the Topaz and attacked her."

"Was there any chance," Goddard asked, "of the privateer being seen from the Lion!"

"None," Croucher said. "It was a dark night and she was a mile or so away, and hidden against all the ships on the northern side of the convoy."

"Was a ship responsible for that section of the convoy?"

"Yes, the Triton."

"Did she prevent the attempt?"

"She eventually fired from a distance."

"At what distance, and from what bearing?"

"From perhaps a mile. From the starboard bow of the convoy."

Ramage wondered if he would remember all the discrepancies.

"For how long did the Triton engage the privateer - or, at least, fire on her?"

"For perhaps a quarter of an hour."

Napier said: "Can you be more precise?"

"For a quarter of an hour."

"Did the privateer capture the Topaz!" Goddard asked.

"No, the Topaz drove her off with her own guns, and the Greyhound frigate came up and captured her."

"What, to the best of your knowledge and belief, would you have expected the Triton to have done?"

"Hauled her wind and come up to the privateer before she reached the Topaz"

Captain Robinson raised his hand.

"Are you aware of any reason why she did not do so?" he asked.

"None. Nor did the prisoner subsequently give any."

"Answer only the question you are asked," Napier said. "Strike the last part of that answer from the minutes."

Goddard wriggled impatiently and, at a gesture from Napier, continued the questioning.

"From your long experience as an officer and from your knowledge of the circumstances, did the action of the prisoner lead you to any conclusions?"

Hmm, thought Ramage, very neat. It's probably phrased illegally but none of us knows enough of the law to challenge it. Napier is frowning but obviously not sure of his ground.

"Yes," Croucher said, almost whispering, "he fell under the tenth, twelfth and seventeenth Articles of War."

"Can you be more specific?"

Croucher shifted from one foot to the other as though Goddard was forcing him to give the required answers.

"He kept back from the fight; he did not engage the ship he should have engaged; he did not do his utmost. He did not defend the ships of the convoy."

Captain Innes, sitting nearest to Ramage, turned to Croucher.

"You have deposed that the Triton did open fire."

"Yes," Croucher said.

Goddard asked: "In the time available - from the time of sighting the privateer - could she have closed the range?"

"Stop!" Napier said crisply. "Strike out that question."

Ramage stood up. "With respect, sir, I don't object to it."

"Good heavens!" Napier exclaimed. "Very well, carry on."

Croucher said: "Yes, she could have closed the range."

"No more questions," Goddard said.

"The court has some questions before the prisoner examines the witness. You said the Lion was a mile ahead of the convoy?"

"About a mile, to the best of my knowledge."

"And ahead of the centre?"

"Yes."

"How many columns of ships were there in the convoy, and how far apart?"

"Seven, and two cables apart."

"So the front of the convoy extended two thousand four hundred yards?"

"That is correct."

"And the Triton was 'perhaps a mile' on the starboard bow of the convoy?"

"That is correct."

"Thank you," Napier said.

Napier's spotted a discrepancy, Ramage thought, cursing his mathematics. As Syme began reading back the evidence, Ramage pencilled a right-angled triangle on a piece of paper, wrote in "Lion" at the apex, "centre ship" at the right angle, and "Topaz" at the other end of the base line. One mile from the Lion to the centre ship; twelve hundred yards from the centre ship to the Topaz. The hypotenuse would be the distance from the Lion to the Topaz.

He drew a second triangle, substituting the Triton for the Topaz, so the base was the distance from the centre ship to the Triton. The hypotenuse was the distance from the Lion to the Triton. Bully for Pythagoras. A mile and a quarter from the Lion to the Topaz; roughly two miles to the Triton. Two? He checked his figures again. A few yards short of two.

"The prisoner may examine the witness," Napier said.

Ramage stood up.

"Could you tell the court the position assigned to the Triton!"

"Abreast the Topaz and two cables off."

"If the Triton was as far out of position as a mile off, why did you not make a signal to her?"

"I could not see her in the darkness!"

"So you did not know she was there?"

"No," Croucher said indignantly, not noticing the infuriated look on Goddard's face.

"But you have already told the court where the Triton was. How did you see her and estimate the distance?"

"From the flash of the guns when she opened fire."

"Would you agree that the distances," Ramage asked, glancing at his notes, "were from the Lion to the Topaz roughly a mile and a quarter, and from the Lion to the Triton, about two miles?"

"Without pencil and paper, I cannot."

Napier said: "If the witness will accept the court's mathematics, those distances agree approximately with the evidence the witness has already given."

"I'm grateful," Croucher said.

"When the Triton opened fire on the privateer, what was her rate of fire?"

"Slow and sporadic," Croucher said uncertainly. "Single guns."

"How slow, would you estimate?"

"Two or three guns a minute. Less, perhaps."

"But you saw the flashes and you knew they were the Triton's guns?"

"Of course."

"Can you, under oath," Ramage said deliberately, emphasizing each word, "explain how you estimated the distance of two miles in the dark with such certainty when you only had 'slow and sporadic' flashes to go by?"

"Experience, of course. I have served at sea for many years," Croucher said stiffly.

"Would you care to describe your previous experience in estimating distances under such circumstances, and what proof you subsequently had that such estimates were correct?"

Goddard leapt to his feet.

"Impertinence," he shouted. "Sheer damn'd impertinence. The accused is impugning the honour of one of the most experienced-"

"Order!" Napier snapped. "You will not make further interruptions of that nature. The question is perfectly in order. It is a very important point, and the court is trying to get at the truth of this matter."

The seven captains round the table looked at Croucher.

"One can never subsequently check one's estimates; that's absurd. But after being in action many times ..."

Ramage waited, but when Croucher said no more he knew there was no need to labour the point.

"You referred to a privateer," he said. "Could you tell the court the nature of this vessel?"

Once again Goddard was on his feet. "This is absurd! She was full of Frenchmen and -"

Napier rapped the table and Goddard broke off.

"This is the second time the court has had to warn the prosecution ..."

Goddard sat down like a sulky schoolboy, and Napier continued: "The witness will answer the question."

"She was a fairly large ship. She came up from astern -"

"What was the position you had assigned to her in the convoy?" Ramage interrupted quietly, and saw the heads of all seven captains jerk up in surprise.

"She was the eighth ship in the starboard column."

"The last ship in the column led by the Topaz?"

"Yes."

"When did the ship join the convoy?"

"I ought to explain that-"

Napier rapped the table. "Please just answer the question; you are not allowed to make statements."

"I can't be forced to incriminate..." Croucher began unhappily. He broke off as Goddard stared at him coldly. Slowly, as though they were the guns of a broadside, the seven captains turned to look at Goddard, those sitting with their backs to him swivelling round in their chairs.

"Do you wish the court to be cleared while this point is decided?" Napier asked Goddard.

"I don't know what the witness is talking about," Goddard said.

"Very well," Napier said crisply, and turned back to Croucher. "You will answer the question."

Croucher took a deep breath. "She joined the convoy in Barbados."

"A British ship?"

"No. Yes, I mean..."

Robinson held up his hand.

"The court understood you to say she was a French privateer."

"Well, she was!"

"But you have just said she was a British ship."

"We thought she was," Croucher said desperately. "She had all the correct papers. Her master claimed she was a runner and wanted to join the convoy to Jamaica. He said the route to Jamaica was thick with privateers!"

Captain Innes began laughing until he saw Napier frowning at him and gesturing to Ramage to continue. Ramage took out his watch and looked at the time, then asked: "Was any report made to you or to the Admiral about the behaviour of this ship at any time before she attacked the Topaz?”

"Yes," Croucher said grudgingly.

"Was this report in writing or verbal?"

"In writing."

"Do you have the report with you?"

"No."

"Do you recall what it said?"

Napier interrupted. "I'm not too sure whether the court ought not to insist on this report being put in as evidence."

"It is available, if required," Goddard said.

"Very well. Continue."

"It said, to the best of my recollection, that the ship - the Peacock was her name - had ranged up abreast her next ahead in the previous night."

"Did it say any more?"

"Well, it hinted that something might be wrong."

"Who made that written report?"

"You did."

"And what was the distance of the Triton from the ship ahead of the Peacock?”

"Well, the ships were a cable astern of each other. Six cables."

"So in the darkness the Triton's lookouts had spotted a suspicious movement twelve hundred yards away."

"I suppose so."

"What action was taken over this report?"

"A frigate was sent to investigate," Croucher exclaimed triumphantly, glad to have some positive evidence to give.

"What did she do?"

"She reported that all was well."

"I asked what she did, not what she reported."

"Well, she went close to the other merchantman and hailed her."

"Do you know now who in fact answered the frigate's hail?"

"Yes, a French prize crew."

"How did a French prize crew come to be on board her?"

"They had been put on board the previous night by the Peacock."

"Thank you," Ramage said heavily. "You gave evidence that on the night that the Peacock attacked the Topaz, the Triton engaged her. Do you think the Triton's fire drove off the Peacock, or contributed to her capture?"

"Not that I know of," Croucher said. "It was the alertness of the Topaz's own officers and the bravery of her own crew with the assistance of the Greyhound."

"How can you be sure?"

"The captain of the Topaz boarded the Lion the next day and made a report to the Admiral."

"In writing?"

"No, verbally, I understand."

"Do you have my written report on the episode?"

"No," Croucher said nervously, glancing at Goddard. "You made no such report."

Ramage's jaw dropped. He looked over at Goddard, who was staring at him, his eyes hate-laden and triumphant. So he had managed to persuade Croucher to condone the deliberate suppression of evidence.

"Did you make any charges or remonstrances when I came on board the Lion on the morning after the attack?"

"You know very well that the Admiral did. And I gather that Mr Yorke, the Master of the Topaz, did so as well."

Napier was watching Ramage, expecting a protest from him about hearsay evidence, but Ramage rubbed the scar over his brow and could not resist asking: "Did Mr Yorke make any specific accusations of cowardice?"

"I was not there," Croucher said lamely. "But I gather he was very bitter against you."

"He accused me of cowardice?"

"So I was told."

"And anything else?"

"I understand that he said you'd nearly been the death of his passengers, and that he was going to complain to the Commander-in-Chief."

"Did he?"

"No. They were all drowned in the hurricane."

"Did Mr Yorke make any written accusations of cowardice?"

"The Admiral thought it unnecessary. There was no hint that such a tragedy would overtake them. It could have been done on arrival at Kingston."

"Did the captain of the Greyhound frigate make any written report about the Peacock's attack?"

"He probably did, but it was not delivered to the flagship."

Ramage glanced at his watch again to have time to think. Croucher puzzled him. The man seemed nervous, many of his answers were qualified and the quick glances at Goddard seemed to indicate that he was giving evidence against his will and trying to say the minimum that would gain him Goddard's approval. Had Croucher at last seen the Admiral for what he was? Had his behaviour in the hurricane finally sickened him? Plenty of questions, Ramage thought sourly, and damned few answers...

"I have only two more questions. From what you saw, from your own professional knowledge and experience, do you consider I was guilty of cowardice during the attack by the Peacock?"

"I was too far away to see everything."

"Do you consider the accusation of cowardice made against me by Mr Yorke of the Topaz was justified?"

"From what I have heard of the incident, yes."

"Thank you. I have no more questions."

The seven captains were looking at Ramage as though he had gone mad. The deputy judge advocate's pen had been flying over the paper and he had been feverishly pushing his spectacles back as they kept sliding down his nose.

Croucher looked uneasy. His earlier doubts about his estimate of distances were of little consequence but Ramage's questions had brought out how little he knew from his own experience and how much he had heard from Goddard.

Syme began reading back the evidence and Ramage sat down and pulled out his watch again. Syme had five minutes to get through it and have Croucher sign it as a correct record of his evidence.

At that moment there was a knock on the door and Ramage realized that he had not decided exactly how to handle the next episode. Napier looked up angrily, signalled to the provost marshal, who went to the door, had a whispered conversation with someone outside, shut the door again and marched over to the President.

He placed a letter before Napier and whispered something. The President waved him away and opened the letter. Three small white cards dropped out, and Napier, obviously puzzled, glanced at them before reading the letter. He then looked up at Ramage, and folded the letter and cards.

Syme finished reading the evidence and Napier glanced at Croucher.

"You may remain in court if you wish," he said.

He has guessed, Ramage thought to himself; or if he has not guessed, he suspects!

"Mr Ramage," Napier said, "you mentioned earlier that you might have further witnesses. It appears they have arrived. This has come for you, and the court agrees to your receiving it."

He held up the letter, and Ramage walked over to collect it. Goddard was lolling back in his chair, completely satisfied with the way things were going and making little effort to hide his boredom. He began polishing his nails with an ivory-backed strip of chamois leather, and Croucher moved to the back of the cabin and took the chair offered him by a lieutenant.

Ramage went to his place and sat down before reading the letter. Unsigned, it said simply: "Three witnesses of extreme importance to the defence are waiting to give evidence."

He read the names on the visiting cards. The first said "Sydney Yorke", the second was larger, and embossed on it was "Le Duc de Bretagne", the third said, "Le Comte de Chambéry".

Ramage felt his head spinning. So the man calling himself "St Brieuc" was the Duke of Brittany, one of the most powerful men in France before the Revolution, a close friend of the late French King, and now the leader of the French refugees in London. "Valuable cargo" indeed! Goddard must have known his real identity - which meant that Goddard too was fighting for his professional life!

Sir Pilcher must be wanting to know why the Duke of Brittany had left the Lion - which survived the hurricane - and sailed on the Topaz, which foundered. Even if Sir Pilcher could be satisfied, the Admiralty - and the Government - would be ruthless. He imagined the Foreign Secretary's angry notes to the Admiralty - "Why did the Duke leave the Lion! How was it that a French privateer was allowed to attack the Topaz"? With a hurricane coming, why was the Duke not made to return to the Lion?" Goddard could hardly tell the truth: that it had started because of something offensive he did or said to the Duke's daughter. He needed a scapegoat - and he had chosen the "cowardly" Lieutenant Ramage ...

Ramage tried to decide which of the three men to call first. Better start with Yorke, because ... he suddenly realized he had made a terrible mistake; a mistake so obvious that, his body rigid with fear, he could hardly believe it.

He had told St Brieuc - the Duke, rather - and Yorke to come at half past ten on the assumption that the prosecution case would be almost over by then. But the case was going so slowly that several prosecution witnesses had still to be called. He would not be able to call the defence witnesses before tomorrow morning, at the earliest. With the Duke, the Count and Yorke already on board the Arrogant - and Captain Napier had seen their visiting cards - it would be impossible to keep their existence secret for another ten minutes, let alone twenty-four hours. Without a surprise confrontation, he was lost ... unless - he realized there was just one chance of springing his trap.

He stood up suddenly, with everyone except Goddard watching him.

"If it pleases the court, in view of the evidence given by the last prosecution witness, I feel that one of my witnesses is really more suited to be a prosecution witness."

Napier sat bolt upright, as though Ramage had suddenly stood on his head.

"A prosecution witness?"

"Yes, sir."

"I hope you know what you are doing!"

"Yes, sir."

Goddard stood up suspiciously.

"Who are you proposing as a prosecution witness?"

Ramage passed Yorke's card to Syme who, without glancing at it, walked over to give it to Goddard.

"On second thoughts, sir," Ramage said to Napier, "the second of my witnesses is also better suited to the prosecution's case - I am assuming of course, the court wishes to get at the truth of the charges."

Napier raised both hands in a despairing gesture, as if it was all beyond him.

Ramage handed the Duke's card to Syme, who dutifully gave it to the Admiral.

"Is that all?" Napier asked.

"The prosecution could have the third witness if it wished, sir."

There was a gasp from several people and Ramage looked round at Goddard. He had collapsed across his chair; his face was grey and he seemed to be panting for breath. The swine is having a fatal convulsion, Ramage thought coldly; he'll escape me yet!

Croucher ran from his seat to help Hobson, who was trying to lift Goddard's bulk squarely on to the chair.

"Send for the surgeon," Napier snapped.

Goddard was clutching his chest and fighting for breath and Croucher ripped at the stock, finally untying it. The seven captains watched without leaving their seats and on deck Ramage heard men shouting, passing the word for the surgeon.

The Admiral was gasping for breath, as though being strangled, and Ramage suddenly pictured himself, a noose round his neck, being hanged from the fore-yardarm. If the sudden jerk did not break his neck, he too would be fighting for breath just like that. He glanced at the captains seated round the table. Their faces were impassive; each had seen death too often to get excited.

At that moment the surgeon arrived with his assistant and went straight to Goddard, who was by now ashen-faced but conscious, taking great gulping breaths and making an effort to sit upright. Croucher whispered something to the surgeon who, without bothering to examine the Admiral, went over and spoke quietly to Captain Napier, who nodded.

The surgeon gave brief instructions and his assistant, Hobson and two other officers who had been sitting at the back of the court, lifted the Admiral and carried him from the cabin.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Napier rapped the table.

"The court stands adjourned until tomorrow at half past eight in the forenoon. The accused will remain in the custody of the provost marshal."

Ramage stood up wearily as Ransom tapped him on the shoulder. The cabin was hot and his clothes seemed to stick to his body like wet pastry. His sword was still on the table. He'd gambled, and unless Admiral Goddard died between now and this time tomorrow morning, Ramage feared that he might have lost. As he followed Ransom out of the cabin, he admitted to himself that he ought to have followed Yorke's advice.

The little cabin on board the Lion was like an oven, although the door was open. Even the canvas stretched over battens to form bulkheads seemed to exude heat. Ramage had stripped off his shirt and sat in his breeches, naked from the waist up.

An hour after Ransom had brought him to the cabin and shut the door, giving loudly-spoken orders to the Marine sentry, he had been surprised when a lieutenant came with a message from Captain Croucher to the effect that he was to be treated as a prisoner at large. It was a pleasant gesture, even if in practice it meant simply having the door open and no sentry outside. If he wanted to he could roam the ship - but that meant having every man on board staring at him, and Ramage preferred to stay in the cabin.

He was just mopping the perspiration from his chest with a towel when one of the ship's lieutenants appeared at the door. "Visitors for you, Ramage."

A moment later he saw Southwick and Yorke peering into the darkness of the cabin, their eyes still dazzled by the bright sun on deck.

"Is this a cabin or a clothes locker?" Yorke inquired quizzically.

"Stay out there a moment while I get dressed," Ramage said shortly. "I'm a prisoner at large, so we can take a turn on deck."

Five minutes later the three men were standing on deck in the shade of the awning, looking across at the town of Kingston and thankful for a gentle Trade wind breeze that did its best to keep them cool.

"He went on shore after about an hour," Southwick said without any preliminaries. "Just him and that whipper-snapper Hobson. He'd got his colour back. Couldn't have been anything serious, otherwise they'd have kept him on board the Arrogant, or the surgeon would have gone with him in the yawl."

"Sounds as if it was a touch of the vapours," Yorke said blithely. "Had an old aunt who had an attack like that just as the Bishop of Lincoln was getting out of his coach to kiss her hand. One of the horses broke wind, and she thought it was the Bishop."

"Must be the same sort of thing," Ramage said. "It happened just as Goddard read the name on your visiting card."

"Whatever it was," Southwick said sourly, "it wasn't fatal, and that's all that matters. What's the next move, sir?"

"When the court convenes again tomorrow morning, Goddard will withdraw the charges. We've been over all that once."

"But will he get away with it, sir?" Southwick asked.

"I'll bet the deputy judge advocate is looking up all the precedents he can find, and Admiral Goddard is probably talking it all over with Sir Pilcher Skinner."

"Curious thing is that no one's come to La Perla" Yorke said. "Once the secret was out the Duke sent a formal letter to the Governor, telling him that he'd arrived but was staying on board until your court martial ends, in case he can be of help."

"That's kind of him," Ramage said. But he knew there had not been time enough for anyone on shore to react to the news that, far from being dead, the Duke of Brittany was in the anchorage on board a tiny captured Spanish schooner.

Yorke glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot.

"Listen, do you really think Goddard will withdraw the charges now? What's to stop him going ahead, and as soon as the Duke and I have given our evidence, just get up and say it's all been a mistake? That if he'd been able to talk to us earlier, the charges wouldn't have been laid? That it simply appeared Lieutenant Ramage had behaved in a cowardly way, but now of course ... and so on?"

Ramage suddenly realized that neither Southwick nor Yorke knew the extent of the evidence given in court that morning.

"If you were going to give evidence tomorrow, I suppose I shouldn't tell you this," he said, "but since you won't, I can talk freely. Captain Croucher this morning gave evidence on oath - in answer to questions from Admiral Goddard - that after the Peacock attack, you went on board the Lion and accused me of cowardice."

"Good God, what a lie! I can prove-"

"But you won't be giving evidence," Ramage said. "Not only did you accuse me, but to my face and in front of Admiral Goddard, and in-"

"But that's monstrous!" Yorke exclaimed angrily.

"- and in addition you said that I'd nearly caused the death of your passengers and they were complaining to the Commander-in-Chief."

Yorke had gone white, and leaned back against the breech of a gun. He seemed almost stupefied at what he had heard, and it was a minute or two before he spoke.

"I begin to understand what you were talking about yesterday. I thought you were - well, overwrought. These men can do anything they please!"

Ramage shook his head. "No, not quite. But Goddard has got to get this trial stopped for the simple reason that he can't risk having you and the Duke prove that he and Croucher not only perjured themselves, but actually conspired together to bring false charges against me for which the only penalty was death. The only way of stopping you both is to stop the trial."

"But the Commander-in-Chief..." Yorke said lamely.

"I'm sure the Commander-in-Chief is just as anxious as Goddard. Don't forget that he signed the order for the trial. Don't forget Goddard is his second-in-command. Don't forget that any scandal concerning Goddard also reflects on Sir Pilcher..."

"But the Duke will tell the Governor what happened!"

"And the Governor will forward any letter to London without comment. Once the Government know the Duke is alive and safe, they won't give a damn about the affair of some wretched young lieutenant!"

"The Duke would never allow that," Yorke said firmly.

"The Duke won't have any say in the matter. It's what the Admiralty decides that matters to me, and I can tell you the Admiralty won't want a scandal; certainly not one concerning the Commander-in-Chief and his second-in-command."

"What are you going to do, then?"

"Listen politely to what's said in court tomorrow, and prepare myself for another visit from the judge advocate so that I can read the wording of the new charges over the loss of the Triton."

"Well, what can we do?" Yorke asked soberly.

Ramage held up his hands helplessly. "I wish I knew."

"Perhaps Mr Yorke and the Duke ought to come over to the Arrogant when the court convenes tomorrow," Southwick said quietly. "Just in case, sir. After all, you never know."

Ramage gave a cynical laugh as he rubbed the scar over his brow. "I think we know well enough. Still, if they wish..."

"We'll be there," Yorke said. "The Duke is a very angry man."

"So am I," Ramage said. "After all, it's my neck we're trying to save!"