Governor Ramage RN

Chapter Twenty

The Marine sentry outside the Arrogant's great cabin saluted smartly as Ramage followed Ransom through the door next morning. Although the early sun was bright and the sky clear, the ship still felt cool and, as he had done from the time he woke at dawn, Ramage tried to shut out all thought of the trial. He had slept badly - hope was hard to sustain in the darkness. Lying in his cot, a thousand pictures sped one after another through his mind; wild pictures that at any other time would come only with a high fever. Croucher standing on the Lion's quarterdeck and giving the order that would run Ramage to the fore-yardarm with a noose round his neck; his father receiving the news in Cornwall of his trial and execution; the Duke comforting a weeping Maxine ... But when sleep finally came it was soon chased away by a bleary-eyed steward with the inevitable weak coffee.

He had washed, shaved and dressed with great deliberation, studying every movement. He found it was the only way of preventing his mind racing back to the trial, and was surprised how many everyday things were done without conscious thought. Shaving the left side of his face before the right, putting the left leg into his breeches before the right, slipping his left arm first into his jacket. Did left-handed people use their right hands and legs in the same way?

In the great cabin nothing had changed from the previous day: Napier was already seated at the head of the table with the other captains in their places; Syme was shuffling papers at the foot of the table; Admiral Goddard was sitting in the same chair with Hobson just behind him. For a moment Ramage found it hard to believe that the previous day's events were anything more than a half-remembered dream.

Napier glanced up, nodded briefly as Ramage sat down, and then tapped the table.

"The court is in session - are there any witnesses present who have yet to give evidence?"

He glanced round but no one spoke.

"Very well, the deputy judge advocate will read the minutes so far, and then we will proceed, since everyone has already been sworn."

As Syme reached for a small pile of papers on the table in front of him, Admiral Goddard stood up and coughed. His face glistened with perspiration; his eyes darted nervously from side to side. Captain Napier glanced up questioningly.

"The prosecution -" Goddard paused for a few moments, as if out of breath. "The prosecution wishes to state - with the court's permission, of course - that it withdraws all the charges against Lieutenant Ramage."

For a moment there was complete silence in the cabin; a silence in which every one of the seven captains turned to stare at the Admiral, and Syme's spectacles slid almost to the end of his nose.

Even as he jumped to his feet Ramage realized that Goddard had taken the court by surprise; Napier must have kept the contents of the letter to himself.

"Sir, I must protest!" Steady, he told himself; that was too loud, too sharp, too aggressive. "Capital charges have been made against me, and much of the prosecution's supporting evidence has already been given. I submit the prosecution cannot now withdraw the charges without one word of my defence being heard!"

Napier held up his hand. "The court will be cleared. The prosecutor and the prisoner will remain."

As soon as everyone else in the cabin had left, Napier turned to Goddard.

"The court wishes to know your reasons for withdrawing the charges."

Goddard shrugged his shoulders and wiped his lips with a handkerchief.

"The charges were drawn up upon assumptions which have subsequently proved to be incorrect."

"What assumptions?" Napier asked.

"On the assumption that there were no survivors from the Topaz"

"What?" Napier exclaimed in surprise. "Do you really mean that there was only one assumption?"

"No, of course not," Goddard said hurriedly. "That was merely one of the assumptions."

Napier turned to Ramage. "What do you say to this?"

"Has the prosecution questioned any of the survivors of the Topaz, sir?"

Napier looked at Goddard. "Have you?"

"Well, no, not yet."

Ramage shrugged his shoulders and, looking directly at Napier, said quietly: "Then how can the prosecution possibly know that any survivor's evidence could alter the case, sir? I am accused of cowardice in action - how can the fact that the Topaz's people weren't drowned possibly affect that accusation?"

"Really!" Goddard exclaimed angrily. "That isn't the point at all. The prosecution has every right to withdraw the charges if it wishes!"

Napier looked questioningly at the deputy judge advocate. "Can it? What are the precedents for that, Syme? I've never met such a case."

Syme took off his spectacles nervously.

"I - er, I can find no exact precedent, sir. Yesterday, out of curiosity, I tried to find a similar case - simply out of curiosity, of course - and the nearest seemed to be the case of Admiral Keppel."

Napier looked puzzled. "I fail to see the connection."

"When charges were brought against Admiral Keppel by Vice-Admiral Sir Hugh Palliser, it was debated in both Houses of Parliament. However, the Admiralty insisted that they could not interfere; that once the accusations had been made, they were obliged to act ministerially, not judicially. They had to accept the accusations and give orders for the trial."

"That hasn't the slightest bearing on this case," Napier said crossly.

Ramage took the opportunity of reinforcing his objection. "It can't be anything but an injustice, sir, if an officer is charged with these most terrible offences, and the trial is ended the moment the prosecution's case is completed, before the accused can say a single word in his own defence. Whatever the court might rule, the fact is the charges will be talked about by every officer in the Service. But since the defence was never heard, the stigma must always remain!"

Napier turned towards Goddard. "What has the prosecution to say to that? The court feels the prisoner has made an important point."

The Admiral waved his hand contemptuously towards Ramage. "It is up to the prosecution to decide, otherwise the whole discipline of the Navy would be in the hands of dissident seamen!"

Ramage suddenly spotted the flaw in Goddard's argument, and felt himself growing cold with anger. Goddard was recovering his poise; subtly he was changing his role from Ramage's prosecutor to the Admiral who was second-in-command on the station, treating these captains as the subordinate officers they would once again become the moment the trial was over. Very well, Ramage thought; the moment has come to shake that poise; to frighten Goddard.

"With respect, sir," he said to Napier, "a great deal of evidence has already been given on oath, written in the minutes and signed by the witnesses. All that evidence was intended to prove that I acted in a cowardly fashion. If that evidence is true, then I am a coward and deserve to be sentenced to death. If it isn't true, then the witnesses have perjured themselves in an attempt to have me hanged. Since the prosecution brought the charges against me, the only possible reason for the prosecution to withdraw the charges now must be that it knows the evidence is not true and that its witnesses have perjured themselves."

"There was only one witness," Napier said, as if thinking aloud.

"This is scandalous!" Goddard shouted. "Since when has it been a defence to accuse the prosecutor of perjury?"

"He wasn't accusing you," Napier said quietly. "He referred specifically to evidence that has been given."

He waved to Syme. "What do the Court Martial Statutes have to say about perjury?"

The deputy judge advocate hurriedly picked up a volume in front of him, looked at the index and then flicked through several pages.

"Section seventeen, sir - I'll read the relevant part. '...All and every person ... who shall commit any wilful perjury ... or shall corruptly procure or suborn any person to commit such wilful perjury, shall and may be prosecuted in His Majesty's court of King's Bench, by indictment or information ...'"

"Hmm, most interesting," Napier commented. "This court, in ruling on the prosecution's application, must be careful not to cast doubt on anyone's reputation. Well, the court will now deliberate. The prosecutor and prisoner will wait outside."

Goddard strode out of the cabin, followed by Ramage. Ransom was waiting just outside the door and moved over ostentatiously to stand beside Ramage.

Ramage rubbed the scar over his brow. He felt dazed, as though someone had flashed a bright light in his eyes. As he tried to recall everything that had been said in the past few minutes, he could only remember Napier's comment when Syme finished reading the reference to perjury - "... must be careful not to cast doubt on anyone's reputation..."

That, he realized, could mean that Goddard's reputation - or, to be fair, the reputation of the second-in-command on the Jamaica Station - must be safeguarded. So the court would probably decide in Goddard's favour: the prosecution would be allowed to withdraw the case.

What would happen to the minutes? He had told Yorke that whatever happened they had to be sent to the Admiralty, but now he was far from sure. After all, withdrawing the charges presumably meant there had never been a trial in the legal sense, so no minutes would be required. In fact, he suddenly realized, Goddard must be sure that withdrawing the charges meant that all records of the whole business vanished automatically.

Ransom was pulling his arm. "The court is in session again," he hissed. "Come on!"

Napier's face was expressionless, and when Ramage glanced at the other captains they were all staring at the table in front of them or looking round the cabin. Their faces revealed nothing; there was no indication of whether they would toss the victor's laurel crown to the prosecutor or to the prisoner.

He glanced at Goddard. The plump cheeks, thick lips and folding chins were placid and smug; for once the eyes were looking up at the deckhead, fixed and not flickering back and forth. He was almost smiling. Somehow Goddard was sure he had won...

Fear soaked through Ramage like fog forming in a forest; slow and almost imperceptible, yet irresistible. It was the creeping fear that dissolved energy and left the victim lethargic, accepting his fate. It was quite different from the fear of the moments before battle which sharpened the senses and strengthened the muscles.

Once again Napier rapped the table. "The court is now in session," he announced.

He looked at Syme, who was waiting with pen poised to take down his words.

"The court has considered the prosecution's application to withdraw the charges against Lieutenant Ramage, and it has considered the prisoner's application that the trial should be continued to give him an opportunity of making a defence."

He paused and glanced round the court. His voice was neutral. He'd make a good judge, Ramage thought.

"The court can find no precedent for accepting either application."

Again the pause to allow Syme to write. It'll go on for days, Ramage thought; I'll just sit here and wait and wait...

"Whatever the court decides will thus set a precedent for the future."

Go on, for God's sake, Ramage said to himself; you can't set a precedent for the past.

"The court has considered whether or not the prosecution, in making the charges in court, has started a judicial process which can logically and legally end only when the court, having heard all the evidence in support of the charges and all the evidence of the defence against them, has returned a verdict."

Ramage leaned forward slightly. Was there a slight chance?

"On the other hand, it has had to consider the position of the prisoner. He is charged with capital offences, and he has a defence against them. A defence which he no doubt considers will result in a verdict of not guilty. Yet the court has to decide whether the prosecution's withdrawal of the charges is not tantamount to a clear verdict of not guilty. The prosecution is saying, in fact, that at first it thought the prisoner was guilty of certain charges, but has now decided he is not."

There's not the slightest chance now, Ramage thought. Those captains must know of the vendetta - it's been common knowledge for several years - but they're ignoring it. Or perhaps they genuinely believe what Napier has just said. But they are forgetting the stigma and the gossip; they're forgetting the new charges that will follow. They're taking the safe course -and who could blame them?

Still speaking in the same tone, Napier said: "After mature consideration, the court rejects the prosecution's application. The trial will continue and the prosecution will call its next witness."

It took Ramage several seconds to appreciate what Napier had said. He glanced at Goddard. The Admiral was staring at Napier, his features frozen. Then slowly the muscles of his face went slack and the flesh sagged. Ramage realized that Goddard was staring not at Napier but at the prospect of complete professional ruin.

Napier and the other six captains had obviously tried to reach a just decision. Although they knew Goddard would be their senior officer again the moment the trial was over, and able to ruin each and every one of them in pure revenge, they had made a decision which would stand the scrutiny of the Lord Chief Justice of England.

Napier turned to Goddard and said crisply: "Everyone is still on oath; call your next witness, please."

Goddard lurched to his feet. "Call Sydney Yorke," he whispered.

Yorke walked in, as debonair and nonchalant as the day Ramage first saw him on board the Lion at Barbados, and as he took the oath Ramage wondered what questions Goddard could ask him that would back up any part of Croucher's evidence.

Ramage guessed that Yorke's attitude would be offhand and flippant. This always angered Goddard, and making the Admiral lose his temper was the best way of provoking him into some damaging admission, or throwing him off his stride.

He looked at Goddard curiously. There was something strange about the man now that he was standing: his movements, such as they were, seemed jerky, like a wooden soldier. His eyes were remote, almost glassy, as though staring at alarming sights beyond the confines of this stuffy cabin. He looked like a man paralysed by fear.

Napier asked patiently: "The prosecution is ready?" When Goddard remained silent, he went on: "The court has some questions to ask. We might take those first."

Yorke bowed, unaware of what had happened, but obviously puzzled by Goddard's behaviour.

"You were the master of the Topaz merchantman?"

"Master and owner."

"You were commanding her in a convoy escorted by the Lion and the Triton brig on the eighteenth of July last?"

"I was."

"Tell the court what happened that night."

"My ship was attacked by a French privateer, the Peacock, which was sailing in the convoy and masquerading as a merchant ship. Fortunately Lieutenant Ramage had suspected this ship because of something she had done the previous night. The result was that he was able to board the French ship before she could capture us."

"Where was the Peacock at this time?"

"Almost alongside the Topaz. Or, rather, the Triton ran aboard her a few moments before she ran aboard the Topaz"

"Could you have beaten off the attack without assistance?"

"Indeed not!" Yorke exclaimed. "The Peacock had more than a hundred men on board - quite apart from a hundred or so on another ship she had captured the night before. We had no warning, so there was only the usual watch on deck."

"We haven't questioned you about the other ship: please confine your answers to the questions asked."

Yorke bowed.

"You went on board the flagship the next day?"

"Yes."

"Tell the court the purpose of the visit."

"To protest to the Admiral about his carelessness in allowing a French privateer to join the convoy openly; to protest that this privateer had been allowed to capture another merchant ship and, while she was still in the convoy, turn her into another privateer; to tell -"

Syme was waving frantically, "Give me time to write!"

Yorke waited until he saw the man's pen stop.

"-to tell the Admiral that in the view of the Duc de Bretagne, whose care was his special responsibility-"

"Do you know that for a fact?"

"I suppose that's hearsay," Yorke said cheerfully, "but it's easy enough to check."

"Confine yourself to fact, please."

"Very well. To convey M. le Duc's protest to the Admiral and to inform the Admiral that it was M. le Duc's intention to make sure that Lieutenant Ramage's gallantry was given the highest reward - by writing to the King. That letter is written, incidentally, and ready for the post."

"Tell the court how you came to be here." Goddard had found his voice at last.

Yorke shrugged his shoulders. "The Topaz was dismasted in the hurricane at the same time as the Triton. By good fortune, the two ships managed to stay together. Eventually they drifted onto a reef."

"And then?" Napier prompted.

"Lieutenant Ramage managed to get everyone on shore by rafts."

"What land was this?"

"Snake Island, at the eastern end of Puerto Rico."

"What happened to the ships?" Goddard asked harshly.

"They were abandoned."

"Badly damaged?"

"Dismasted, certainly, and stranded. But not badly damaged."

"You saw the wreck of the Triton with your own eyes?"

"Yes."

"Did the accused destroy her to prevent her falling into Spanish hands?"

"No," Yorke said cheerfully. "In fact he decided not to set fire to either ship."

"Do you know why?"

"He didn't want to alarm any Spanish garrison there might be on Snake Island."

"Was there such a garrison?"

"Oh yes, a dozen men, and a lieutenant."

"And the brig wasn't destroyed for fear of a dozen Spanish soldiers?"

"Well, not exactly," Yorke said vaguely. "We captured the soldiers. But the smoke might have been seen from Puerto Rico where I assume there are a few thousand soldiers. It was the treasure as much as anything else that made us think the Spanish would be vigilant."

"The treasure?"

"Yes, you see, the garrison was digging these holes all over the place."

"Holes?"

"Well, trenches, really," Yorke said in an offhand voice. "They looked like graves. There was one big grave, too. Lots of skeletons."

"Skeletons, Mr Yorke?"

"Yes. Dead people. They'd been murdered, you know. I found it all most depressing - you would have too, I'm sure. All shot in the back of the head. A bullet makes a frightful mess of the cranium, you know."

"But who were they?" Goddard stammered.

"No idea, I'm afraid. All in a circle, like signs of the zodiac. Pirates ... slaves ... who knows? Their hands had been tied together. Perhaps to stop them dipping into the treasure."

"The treasure!" Goddard exclaimed, as if suddenly remembering it after being diverted by the skeletons. "What is this nonsense about treasure?"

Napier interrupted: "Pray, what has all this to do with the charges against the accused?"

"Dunno!" Yorke said blithely. "The accused went off on a treasure hunt, and I thought Admiral Goddard seemed interested."

Napier looked at Goddard. "Do you think this forms part of the prosecution's case?"

"How do I know!" Goddard said angrily. "If it pleases the court, I think the matter should be investigated."

"Very well ... The court will inquire. Mr Yorke, what led you to think there was treasure on the island?"

"Not me, Mr Ramage."

"Describe the events in your own words."

Yorke glanced at Ramage, who gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"The Spanish soldiers were guarding slaves who were digging trenches all over the island. Lieutenant Ramage, who speaks Spanish, discovered they were looking for treasure."

"Did they have some sort of chart showing where it might be?"

"No, there was just a poem, a sort of riddle, which was supposed to give clues to its whereabouts."

"Did you manage to solve the riddle?"

"Mr Ramage did."

"And then what happened?"

"We set the men to work digging."

"With no success, it would seem?"

"Oh no," Yorke said languidly, "I think it was quite productive really. We found various boxes of treasure: old Spanish coins, metal ornaments and plates - that sort of thing."

"Of no great value, then?"

"They seemed valuable to me, but then I'm a poor man! It weighs very many hundredweights and was mostly gold."

There was a silence in the cabin until Napier asked, in an awed voice: "Where is it now?"

"On board La Perla, a Spanish schooner."

"I assumed you had removed it from Snake Island," Napier said.

"Lieutenant Ramage did."

"But you said it was on board La Perla."

"La Perla is at anchor half a mile from here: Lieutenant Ramage captured her and sailed her here as a prize."

"Clear the court," Napier snapped. "The court stands adjourned. The prisoner will remain behind."

When everyone but Ramage, Syme and the seven captains had left the cabin, Napier said harshly: "See here, Ramage, the court doesn't take kindly to you turning the proceedings into a circus."

"I'm on trial for my life, sir."

"I know that, dammit; but this treasure business. Is it as much as this fellow makes out?"

"More, sir. About five tons. With gold at three pounds, seventeen and sixpence a fine ounce, I estimate it as worth well over a million pounds."

Napier held his hands palm upwards. "You don't help your own case, doing this sort of thing. Good God!" he exclaimed, "We must get a Marine guard on it!"

"There are a hundred seamen and Marines guarding it now, sir."

"But - who's in command of La Perla? Your master is on board here as a witness."

"The Master's mate, sir."

"Tons of gold and silver, and a master's mate in charge! You're mad, Ramage! The whole damn ship's company could rise on him and sail out of the anchorage!"

"With respect, sir, these men helped find the treasure, dug it up, crated it, captured La Perla, loaded the treasure on board, and sailed the ship several hundred miles to here. They could have killed myself, the master, master's mate, Yorke and the Duke and his entourage at any point along the route and got away with it more easily than they could now."

"All right, don't be so blasted touchy. Why didn't you report this before now?"

"I have my reports here, sir." He waved the papers he was holding.

"Why didn't you deliver them when you first arrived?"

"I went at once to Admiral Goddard. I gave him the report on the loss of the Triton, sir, and was put under close arrest, before I had the chance to deliver the others, and was marched off with a Marine escort."

"You could have still delivered the report on the treasure."

"I could have done, sir," Ramage said flatly.

"But you were going to use the treasure to bargain with, eh?"

"Indeed not!" Ramage said angrily. "How could I bargain with it, sir, even if I'd wanted to?"

"Why didn't you put in the report, then?"

"Because without even reading my first report and without asking me one question, the Admiral told me he was bringing me to a trial under Articles ten, twelve and seventeen. That could only mean charges of cowardice, sir."

"Damnation!" Napier exclaimed. "Why am I appointed president of such a court! What have these gentlemen done" - he waved towards the other captains - "that they should be mixed up in all this?"

"With respect, sir," Ramage said, blinking rapidly, "what have I done to be accused of cowardice?"

Captain Robinson said: "Boy's got a point, Napier; nasty business, the whole thing. Wash our hands of it, I say; special report to Sir Pilcher. You prepare it; all the court sign it. Minutes of the trial so far can go with it. Ought to vote on it; damn silly of us to do anything else. That's my view."

"Mine, too," said Innes, and the others nodded in agreement.

"See here, young Ramage," Napier said suddenly, "you're not supposed to be hearing any of this. Go and give your escort a hail and take a turn on deck. Keep away from everyone else."

As Ramage walked to the door he heard an exasperated Napier growl: "Syme, you are the most bloody useless deputy judge advocate I've ever seen!"

Half an hour later the court was thrown open and Ramage and Goddard were called in. Syme was flushed and jumpy; Ramage guessed he had had an unpleasant time trying to provide precedents, laws, rules and regulations for the morning's events. The small pile of legal volumes that had been stacked in front of him were now an untidy heap, with many slips of paper marking various pages.

Napier looked up at Goddard.

"The court has decided that all the previous witness's evidence concerning finding the treasure shall be removed from the record."

Removed? Ramage felt the word had been spoken deliberately: "struck" or "deleted" would have been more usual. Removed in toto, to be sent to the Commander-in-Chief? It was all evidence given on oath...

"However, in view of the gravity of the charges," Napier went on, "the court has decided that the trial shall continue. Has the prosecution any more questions to put to the last witness?"

"No," Goddard said in a half whisper. The man seemed to be shrivelling; the usual haughty stance had given way to hunched shoulders; the broad chest and jutting belly had merged into a sagging paunch. His eyes were bloodshot and sunken. He looked like a guilty man on trial for his life, and maybe he was. Perhaps Goddard knew he had gambled with high stakes, and lost the gamble.

"Please call your next witness, then."

"I ... the prosecution has no more witnesses to call."

"Very well, the defence will present its case."

Normally Ramage should have read out his defence against the charges, while Syme copied it down, then called his witnesses to prove the points of his defence. Instead he stood up.

"If it pleases the court, I wish to waive my right to state a defence ... I'm prepared to rest my case on the evidence the court has already heard and what it will hear from the remaining witnesses."

"Very well," Napier said. "Note that in your minutes, Syme."

After Syme finished writing, Napier told Ramage: "You may call your first witness." Officially he was still on trial for his life and the minutes of the trial would be read in the Admiralty by men who knew none of the background.

"Call Edward Southwick."

The Master was sworn and Ramage questioned him so that the Peacock's curious behaviour the night before the attack on the Topaz was described in detail and he was able to show why the written report on the episode was made to the Admiral and delivered on board the Lion.

Then, answering questions, Southwick described, simply but graphically, how the Peacock had been sighted in the darkness coming up the line of merchantmen, and how the Triton had been manoeuvred to save the Topaz.

Southwick's description of Ramage's handling of the Triton during and after the attack left no doubt in anyone's mind of his admiration for his captain.

Ramage's questions had touched only lightly on their stay on Snake Island, but the capture of La Perla and the voyage to Jamaica rounded off the evidence, except for a few last questions which Ramage could not resist, since it would make Southwick's name famous in the Navy.

"When La Perla left Snake Island, did she have a defect in her sailing qualities?"

"Yes, she was down by the head and griped a lot."

"Tell the court what orders you received concerning this."

"I was told to shift some cargo aft."

"How much did you shift, and what was it?"

"About two tons of gold and silver coins."

"I have no more questions to ask of this witness," Ramage said.

Napier turned to Goddard.

"Your witness."/

"I have no questions."/

Syme read the evidence aloud, and after Southwick signed it he was told to stand down.

"Your next witness?" Syme asked, as if at last deciding to take a more active part in the proceedings.

"Call the Duke of Brittany."

The Duke walked in and bowed deeply. Napier, uncertain what to do, stood up and bowed back.

"Your Grace," he said hesitantly, "I - er, is your Grace familiar with the English language?"

"Perfectly, thank you."

Napier went red. "You understand that I am duty bound to ask the question."

"Of course," the Duke said. "But I have no need of an interpreter."

"The oath," Napier said, motioning to Syme.

The Duke took the oath, using the Crucifix, and Napier said apologetically, "The deputy judge advocate has first to write down the question, and then your answer, so..."

"I understand perfectly," the Duke said.

"You travelled to Jamaica in a ship called the Topaz?”Ramage asked, hoping the Duke would realize the significance of the question.

"I travelled part of the way in the Topaz" he said, and before anyone could stop him, added, "I and my suite transferred to her from the Lion because of the behaviour of Admiral Goddard."

In the silence that followed Ramage heard his own heart thumping. Would Napier rule the answer out of order? Would Goddard protest? Quickly he asked the next question.

"What happened on the night of thex eighteenth of July last?"

"The Topaz was attacked by a French privateer."

"Was the attack successful?"

"No, it was foiled completely because of the foresight and daring of the Triton brig."

"Did you make any complaints to the Admiral following the attack?"

"Yes, because he had been criminally negligent in allowing this privateer to sail in the convoy for several days."

Still no one challenged the legality of the reply and, hardly believing his good luck, Ramage plunged on, rubbing the scar on his forehead.

"Evidence has been given in this court that you sent the captain of the Topaz on board the Lion to accuse myself of cowardice in not coming to the defence of the Topaz. On what grounds did you make that accusation?"

"I made no such accusation," the Duke said quietly. "It is not for me to speculate about the motives of any man who makes such a claim."

Napier interrupted: "The court desires to know if the captain of the Topaz carried any message from you to the Admiral, and if so, the nature of the message."

"Mr Yorke certainly did carry a message. It was in writing. It praised Mr Ramage and said I was writing to His Britannic Majesty drawing his attention to Mr Ramage's bravery in ensuring my safety and allowing me to carry out the mission with which His Majesty had entrusted me."

"Thank you," Napier said.

"Have you any complaint of your treatment at my hands while on Snake Island, or on board La Perla?" Ramage asked.

"Yes," the Duke said gravely, his eyes hard, his face set and his lips squeezed tightly together. Goddard sat up and the members of the court leaned forward expectantly. Ramage looked dumbfounded.

"Would you please tell the court the nature of that complaint?" said Napier.

The Duke's face dissolved into a smile.

"Mr Ramage refused my request to sign on as one of his crew."

The members of the court bellowed with laughter and the noise they made drowned Ramage's own laugh, which had begun to sound slightly hysterical.

"Thank you, your Grace. I have no more questions to ask this witness."

Syme read back the evidence, and once again Napier turned to the Admiral.

"Have you any questions to ask this witness?"

Goddard shook his head, and Ramage said: "That was my last witness."

Napier picked up his watch. Ramage's sword was still lying across the table in front of him.

"The court will adjourn until eight-thirty tomorrow morning, when it will announce its verdict. The prisoner will, of course, remain in custody."