Ramage And The Rebels

CHAPTER TWELVE

Amsterdam as a harbour was excellent for any ship wanting to unload cargo at one of the quays lining each side of the channel, or for other vessels, including privateers, needing to pass through and anchor at the far end or in the Schottegat For a frigate wanting to anchor across the channel to block it, to be outside the arcs of fire of the guns of Riffort and Waterfort, and also to be able to swing herself round far enough to fire into the Punda side of the port in case of emergency, it presented difficulties, with only a couple of hundred yards in which to anchor.

Governor van Someren, Ramage realized, now regarded the island's surrender as an accepted fact, with only the actual document, the 'instrument of surrender', to be drawn up, signed and sealed. He did not realize that Ramage still had no guarantee of good faith, no hostages to make sure the Dutch kept their word, and had no explanation of the sudden surrender. Van Someren, on the other hand, had a British frigate in the harbour and would, within an hour or two, have her captain sitting down with him in Government House, a guest or a hostage.

As the Calypso sailed in towards Waterfort and Riffort, the Governor and his two aides had stood beside Ramage on the quarterdeck, commenting, explaining and exclaiming at the sight of Amsterdam from seaward on a sparkling, sunny day. Their boat was towing astern; their crew was in the waist, keeping out of the way of the British seamen as they hurried back and forth, trimming yards and sails. Southwick had a party preparing the anchor, Aitken bad the topmen standing by to furl the topsails, and Ramage, acting the role of host, was thankful none of the Dutch trio enquired why lieutenants Wagstaffe, Baker and Kenton remained with groups of men who, while not ostentatiously standing by each gun, would be recognized by trained eyes as being the guns' crews. If the Dutchmen had asked why the guns were left run out, and why a few men swilled water over the deck from time to time and sprinkled more sand, Ramage was prepared to say with a straight face that this was the way in wartime that ships of the Royal Navy always entered port The thunder of 12 - pounder guns firing at five - second intervals would echo up the channel and carry for miles across the fiat countryside, advertising the Calypso's presence, so Ramage had avoided the question whether or not to fire a salute by explaining, again with a straight face, that Admiralty regulations forbade him saluting anyone who was actually on board the ship. His Excellency thought this a splendid joke and, revealing a lively mind and a good memory of peacetime routines, commented that Ramage would not in fact fire a salute anyway without first sending an officer on shore to satisfy himself that a salute would be returned 'in due form'. (No one pointed out that a salute was also to a place, as well as an individual, a point covered by paragraph fifteen in the 'Of Salutes' section in the Regulations and Instructions.) Ramage had laughed politely at the phrase but it was difficult to maintain polite conversation while judging distances, calculating how much way the ship would carry in the channel with a backed foretopsail, and where to drop the anchor because the Calypso would end up with her stern very dose to the Otrabanda side. More important, he had to see the arcs of fire of Waterfort and Riffort. One thing was dear now that the Calypso was only a cable or so away - they were not so much forts as walled batteries facing seaward.

Under the guise of using his telescope to examine the house which Major Lausser described as his, Ramage was able to see that the guns of Riffort on Otrabanda could cover only the entrance to seaward; there was no way they could fire inland, down the channel. Once inside, a ship was safe. The same went for Punda's guns: Waterfort was a reversed replica of Riffort He saw exactly where he wanted to anchor the Calypso — half - way along the channel. A single anchor to the eastward would keep her head to wind and with springs to the cable he would be able to haul the Calypso round far enough to fire into each side of the town, should it become necessary.

The temptation to take command, to give all the orders direct through the speaking trumpet, was very strong, but he knew it was also the sign of a weak and an unfair captain. Weak because it showed he was uncertain of his ship's company (and probably of himself as well) and unfair to the first lieutenant, particularly one of Aitken's ability, became it deprived him of responsibility for handling the ship at just the time when it would do the most good: at a time when no mistakes could be made. Few captains, Ramage reckoned, were as cold - blooded as himself: if Aitken sailed the Calypso on to the rocks in front of either fort, or let the ship get into stays so that she drifted on to one of the sandbanks inside, the captain would get the blame anyway: courts - martial rarely departed from the tradition that captains might not have much work to do, but they carried all the responsibility at all times. So Aitken might just as well have the experience.

'Mr Aitken,' he said, 'you see the long house with the pink walls and red roof to starboard, and the grey warehouse to larboard?'

'Aye, sir."

"Well anchor between the two, about a third of the way to the eastward.'

'Aye aye, sir.'

'I was thinking of springs,' Ramage said casually, to make sure Aitken left enough room for the ship to swing, and warning the young Scot without the Dutch knowing that the Calypso might end up having to open fire on the town.

'Aye, sir.' Aitken let his accent become so pronounced that even Ramage could only just understand him when he said, ' 'Tis a bonny spot for clapping a spring on the cable.'

Ramage watched the walls of the batteries pass the Calypso, with the channel narrowing so that he felt a couple of good men could throw heaving lines to the shore on each side. Van Someren turned and said anxiously: 'You will not go too far in, I hope: it gets shallow towards Schottegat, where the privateers are anchored.'

Did it really get shallow or was His Excellency worrying about the privateers? It was hard to be sure. Ramage had no chart of the inside of Amsterdam, but it seemed likely the channel would get shallow that far in. Until those signatures were on the instrument of surrender, he thought to himself, it is wiser to be suspicious and wary.

Then suddenly he realized what Southwick had meant A few minutes after he had come back on to the quarterdeck with the Governor, Southwick had been fussing round taking compass bearings of various points in Amsterdam, and as Ramage had passed him the old master had muttered, rather loudly: 'Numbers three, five and six.'

Ramage had not paid much attention. Obviously they weren't bearings, but the numbers had no significance, until now. Southwick knew nothing of what was going on with the Dutch; there had not been time or opportunity to tell him anything. But Southwick, in his own wise way, was trying to remind his captain.

The Articles of War were unambiguous on the question of dealing with the enemy. It was one thing for one of the King's officers to capture an enemy ship or island in battle; it was quite another to be involved - as he now was - in negotiations.

While Aitken gave the order to clew up the maintopsail, Ramage recalled the wording of Article number three: 'If any Officer, Mariner, Soldier or other Person of the Fleet, shall give, hold or entertain Intelligence to or with any Enemy or Rebel, without leave from the King's Majesty, or the Lord High Admiral or the Commissioners for executing the Office of Lord High Admiral, Commander - in - Chief, or his commanding officer, every such Person so offending, and being thereof convicted by the Sentence of a Court - martial, shall be punished with Death.' Death with a capital 'D'. Well, Captain Ramage did not have leave from anyone, least of all Admiral Foxe-Foote.

Neither Articles five nor six specified death - with a capital 'D' (it meant in fact that if a court found you guilty it had to sentence you to death). No, they laid down death or whatever punishment 'the nature or degree of the offence shall deserve'.

Five dealt with 'all spies, and all persons whatsoever' who came as spies 'to bring or deliver any seducing letters or messages from any Enemy or Rebel', or try to corrupt any captain or anyone in the Fleet 'to betray his Trust'. That could cover His Excellency and his aides.

Number six would catch Ramage if he so much as offered His Excellency a drink. He had already done that, he reflected grimly, and was not guilty because His Excellency had not accepted it. If he had accepted a rum punch, though, then Captain Ramage would have been guilty - 'No person in the Fleet shall relieve an Enemy or Rebel with Money, Victuals, Shot, Arms, Ammunition, or any other supplies whatsoever, directly or indirectly . . .'

The phrase 'directly or indirectly' took on a new meaning: at this moment the Calypso is coming bead to wind, foretopsail backed, and ready to drop an anchor. If she goes aground - indeed, if the whole thing is a trap - Captain Ramage will have provided the Governor of Curacao with all the items, and a few score tons of 'any other supplies'.

Like most laws passed by Parliament in its infinite wisdom, the Articles of War were a fine - meshed fishnet which caught without discrimination everything from sprats and sharks to waterlogged tree - trunks. And splash went the bower anchor, just where he wanted it, and the smell of burning drifted aft as friction scorched the hemp rope as it raced out of the hawse. Now the Calypso had sternway, pushed by the backed foretopsail, putting a strain on the cable and digging the anchor in. Later when the Governor and his aides had gone on shore, the springs would be put on the cable, and the Calypso's broadsides would be able to rake both sides of the town, if necessary.

The Dutchmen had been chattering to each other and Ramage cursed his lack of knowledge of the language. Van Someren turned to him: 'If I may borrow an English expression and "give credit where credit is due", I must congratulate you and your men: I have never seen anchoring so well done with a ship of this size, even by captains who have been in a hundred times. You have visited here before?'

Ramage grinned and shook his head. /None of us has. But perhaps you would repeat your kind remarks to my first lieutenant: you saw he was handling the ship.'

Van Someren nodded and Ramage called Aitken. It would do no harm to make the point to these Dutchmen that, in the Calypso anyway, the captain was not the only man who could handle the ship in a confined space. Aitken showed sufficient surprise at the Governor's congratulations that Ramage sensed that His Excellency had in mind that the junior lieutenant would probably be handling the ship when she left . . .

The Governor said to Ramage: 'I would like to go on shore now to prepare for our formal meeting. Then this evening perhaps you and your officers would have supper at Government House?'

He saw Ramage hesitating and added: 'I am sure our negotiations will be completed by then. And my wife and daughter will be glad to have new partners for dancing.'

Ramage thought of the daughter and agreed at once. Young Kenton, the junior lieutenant, was going to have to stay on board, unless Southwick decided to miss an evening on shore in favour of a few hours' peace and quiet on board.

An hour later Ramage and Aitken, in full uniform, were seated in what was obviously a small council chamber, with the Governor and Major Lausser sitting opposite them. The dark reddish - brown of the big rectangular table contrasted with the cool white of the stone walls and the black marble floor. Paolo had come on shore with Ramage and, as soon as they had all been introduced to the Governor's wife and daughter, the boy had been swept off by the women for a tour of the city.

The daughter was beautiful; as unexpectedly beautiful in such a dull island, Ramage thought, as a frangipani blossom. She had corn - coloured hair that glinted gold; blue eyes that betrayed a sense of humour; full lips that hinted at - well, they more than hinted. She was physically the opposite of Gianna: she was only a couple of inches shorter than Ramage, while Gianna was a fraction under five feet tall. She had full breasts while Gianna's were small and firm. If Gianna was the imperious little Latin, then Maria van Someren was the typical blonde Amazon, not large - limbed or heavy - featured but a young woman who could look a man straight in the eye without shyness or coyness. And, Ramage was sure, she had known immediately that the moment he had first met her in the drawing room, when she had been wearing a cool, long white dress in the French fashion, clinging and cut low in front, he had in his imagination seen her standing there naked, elegant and proud. She had given a slight curtsy as they were introduced, a curtsy when Ramage had imagined her breasts moving slightly, her nipples caressing the silk of her clothing.

'You agree. My Lord?'

Ramage, his lips kissing those nipples, suddenly found himself in the Council room and the three men waiting for him to answer. To answer what?

''I'm sorry,' he said heavily, 'I was thinking of something else.' Deep thoughts, his voice implied, weighing, for instance, the importance of Curacao against Antigua, or comparing Amsterdam with English Harbour. They would be large nipples. 'Would you repeat that question?'

The Governor's smile showed that he understood how important matters required careful consideration. 'I was asking if we should begin.'

'We are ready,' Ramage said, glancing at Aitken, who was going to take notes if necessary.

The Governor said: 'You are curious why I wish to surrender the island to you - to Britain, rather.'

'I have been trying to find out from the moment you first mentioned it, Your Excellency,' Ramage said dryly. 'It seems to be the point upon which all negotiations must pivot.'

'It is, it is. But I regret the surrender is not entirely straightforward.'

There is always a catch, Ramage thought sourly. Now come his terms: you can have my island wrapped up in Bruges lace on condition that you . . .

'Nor,' van Someren continued, 'is it very complex. If I may explain some of the background, you will understand at once why you have been seeing smoke at the western end of the island, and hearing occasional gunfire.

'First, you know the circumstances by which the French claimed the United Netherlands as an ally and that our Prince Sovereign had to flee and is now a refugee living in England. Anyone who disagreed with France or the Revolution was - ' he made a chopping gesture with his hand to imitate the guillotine.

Those of us in distant colonies at the time had to decide how best we could serve our country. We had three choices. We could become refugees and get to England or a British colony. We could withdraw from public life (and risk being arrested, accused of being traitors to the republican cause and then executed). Or we could appear to be prepared to serve the republican cause in the hope of safeguarding our own countrymen, because if we did not serve them the French would put in their own men.

'Rightly or wrongly I allowed myself to continue as Governor in this last category, and until recently I have been able to spare my people the worst excesses for which the Revolution in France has become famous - infamous, rather.'

He paused and poured water into a glass from a carafe in front of him. He drank and then continued. 'But recently - in the past few months - some of our wilder young men have come out violently in support of the French Revolution, or its revolutionary principles, rather. They gathered in the western end of the island, freed slaves, and began threatening to overthrow my government, which they claim is not truly revolutionary - although, ironically, it is approved by Paris.'

'Do they have a leader?'

To begin with they had their own committee. The Committee of Liberation they called it. Now their new leader is one of the French privateer captains, who has taken all the men from the ships to reinforce these - these revolutionaries. It seems an odd word for the Governor of an island belonging to the Batavian Republic to use, but these rebels want to destroy all that most of us in the island consider justifies Curacao's existence.'

The smoke . . . ?' Ramage prompted.

'Villages and plantation houses being burned down by these rebels.'

'Why?' Ramage was curious at what seemed a self - defeating activity.

'In some cases because the people would not join the rebels; in others my troops were using them as defences. But mainly because this privateer captain, their leader, is a murderer who enjoys killing and destroying - and robbing and raping. They say he is mad . . .'

'Where are your troops now?'

'I have withdrawn them here to defend the port'

'Are they loyal?'

To me, yes. There are only one hundred of them, phis the gunners from the forts and a score or so infantrymen.'

'And the ordinary people here in Amsterdam and the island - what are their sympathies?'

'Against these rebels: they are mostly tradesmen who want to be left in peace to carry on their business. They want no part of the present war - as you know, Curacao was one of the great trading centres on this side of the Atlantic. This war has brought business to a standstill. Trade with Britain is cut off, France has no money to buy, and nor has Spain. We are reduced to a precarious trade with the Main. Our warehouses are full —with goods that have been there for years.'

"Your Excellency,' Ramage said deliberately, making it dear that he was about to speak as the official British representative, 'you realize that to my government you and your - is it a legislative council? - are rebels: men in arms against the House of Nassau, which my government regards as the rightful rulers of the United Netherlands? Now you are in turn attacked by men you call rebels. Your problem is, in effect, a revolution within a revolution.'

For several moments van Someren was silent. His eyes had narrowed, giving him a slightly Oriental appearance; his hands clasped on the table in front of him, showed the knuckles white. 'You speak like a diplomatist, My Lord,' he said without animosity, but choosing his words with precision, 'and like a diplomatist, you want to drive a hard bargain. For myself, though, I am concerned only with saving lives. There are many hundreds of innocent men, women and children living here in Amsterdam. We have reason to believe the rebels intend to loot the city and then bum it down.'

'Why do they want to do that?' Ramage asked bluntly.

Van Someren gestured to Major Lausser, who sorted through papers in front of him and handed the Governor a letter.

'You read French, My Lord?'

'I do, Your Excellency.'

Ramage took the proffered letter, hard put not to smile at the way each of them observed the courtesies with their titles and reflecting how inappropriate was a naval uniform at a negotiating table. The letter, comprising only a few lines, was from some group that called itself The - Revolutionary Committee of the Batavian Republic in the Antilles', and was addressed to the Governor by name. It said, without any preliminaries, that unless he surrendered Amsterdam by noon on a given date - it used the new revolutionary method of dating which Ramage could never remember - it would be burned down, and the Committee took no responsibility for the safety of the women and children while the men would be treated as traitors.

Ramage folded the letter and went to give it back to the Governor; then he unfolded it again, read the signature, and said to Aitken: 'Make a note of the name "Adolphe Brune, chief of the privateers".' He spelled out the names and then returned the letter to van Someren.

'I trust that decides you,' the Governor said.

"You have about a hundred men, trained troops?'

'Yes, mostly artillerymen.'

'And there are a thousand republicans?' Ramage guessed the figure, curious to see van Someren's reaction.

'Not as many as that We estimate about five hundred at the most. The privateers were all short of men - we guess at a total of three hundred and fifty. There were about one hundred republicans when all this began, but they may have been joined by others, the inevitable - how do you call them? - opportunists. About fifty, we think.'

'All short of weapons and powder, though?'

Van Someren shook his head. 'Unfortunately they have plenty, because each privateer has weapons - muskets, pistols, cutlasses - for at least fifty men, so they can arm five hundred. Before I brought my troops in, patrols were reporting capturing men holding positions with three loaded muskets in reserve beside each of them.'

'How many men are left in the privateers?'

Even as he asked the question Ramage realized that he had made a bad mistake: he had taken no steps to prevent someone from the privateers getting on shore to ride off into the hills and report to Brune that a British frigate had just come into the harbour and her captain was at Government House.

'One or two men in each vessel,' and then, perhaps reading Ramage's thoughts, van Someren added: 'I left sentries concealed who will seize anyone landing to carry the news of your arrival to the rebels.'

Ramage wished he had a pen or pencil to twiddle. Sitting here with his elbows on the table and one hand resting on the other was comfortable but it seemed to stifle coherent thought. Ideas must come through active hands. Clasped hands reminded him of contented parsons and portly priests mumbling things by rote or making embarrassingly obvious remarks in portentous voices. The true artists in this form of activity, he thought sourly, became bishops, and the lords spiritual never found themselves sitting in the residences of governors of enemy islands trying to think what to do next.

'You are satisfied?' van Someren demanded, his voice slowly becoming almost querulous from anxiety as he realized that this English officer seemed far from delighted at the prospect of having the richest Dutch island in the Caribbean surrendered to him. The Dutchman watched carefully. This Lord Ramage sat quite still, like a cat waiting for a mouse. He did not move his hands - nor crack the joints of his knuckles like Lausser. It was impossible to guess what he was thinking: his eyes gave nothing away, sunk beneath bushy eyebrows. He had tapped the table with his left hand when he wanted his lieutenant to make a written note of something but van Someren saw it was always a figure or a name, never a phrase. Obviously he was not a diplomatist because he was concerned only with facts, not phrases.

Whether or not this Lord Ramage eventually accepted the surrender - and it seemed far from sure at the moment - van Someren knew that it was fortunate for Curacao that he was commanding the frigate that suddenly appeared off the port. Had that French frigate come in, she would have provided more than enough men for the rebels to swing the balance: she would have made sure the rebels were left in control of Amsterdam. Which would in turn mean his own arrest and execution. By a miracle, this Ramage had captured her. In fact, having the Calypso anchored in the port almost made up for the fact that the Delft was so long overdue. Thank goodness he was not bothered daily by demands from Maria for news about the Delft. The frigate was due almost exactly six weeks ago, and that was all he knew. Either she is delayed in the Netherlands or she is delayed by storms or calms. Or she has been captured or sunk.

Now Lord Ramage is watching me. Those brown eyes do not miss much. And he is rubbing one of two scars on his forehead, as though a mosquito bite has started itching. The lieutenant suddenly glances sideways at him, van Someren noticed, as though this nibbing of the scar is significant.

'Would you just repeat briefly, Your Excellency, exactly what you are proposing. Slowly, because I want Mr Aitken to write it down, so that we have a record for my admiral.'

Van Someren was almost thankful because for the captain's own sake he ought to have something in writing to show his senior officer - indeed, he would have been much wiser to have demanded a document from the Dutch. Yet, van Someren realized, if surrender terms are agreed and signed, Ramage will have no use for such a document. He thought how satisfying that his English was coming back to him. Talking English and French to Maria when she was a young girl had done wonders for her command of both languages, and he bad to admit it had been good for him, too. Now, to choose the words, words for naval officers, not diplomatists . . .

'As Governor of Curacao, I wish to surrender this island, with all its people, fortifications, troops, stores, vessels and armaments, to His Britannic Majesty - ' he paused when Aitken raised a hand for him to go more slowly - 'in return for His Britannic Majesty's guarantee of protection of the island and its people.'

'A straight exchange,' Ramage said. 'We get the island, you get defended against these republicans. These rebels, rather.'

One has to smile at such bluntness. A diplomatist would have taken five minutes to say the same thing. "Yes, reduced to its simplest terms, that is so.'

'And, Your Excellency, you give your word of honour that the situation in the island is as you have described it?'

'You ask a great deal! I cannot possibly give you my word of honour about that because I have had to rely on the reports of patrols, and they have now been called in. In all honesty I cannot say what the island's position is at this moment I can give you my word - and I do - that what I have told you is truly the position as I understand it.'

One had to be honest with this young man. He was not guileless; far from it. But obviously he had no time for all the tact, vagaries and deceptions normally used by diplomatists: if he accepted the surrender of the island, clearly he wanted to know exactly what obligations it brought him.

'You want a guarantee that the island and its people will be defended by the British?'

'Yes.'

In face of such a simple question one could give only a simple answer and the question and the answer were critical: this Lord Ramage might lack (or spurn) the approach of the diplomatist, but he had a sharp enough mind to distil what really mattered.

And now he is shaking his head. His lieutenant has put down his pen and Lausser gives a muffled sigh which is quite unnecessary and tactless: there is no point in revealing disappointment to this young man. Disappointment! Hardly the word to use when a man shaking his head means your eventual execution, and God knows what treatment of your wife and daughter . . . But one must smile. One must remain cheerful. One must bluff, too.

The prospect of reporting to your commander-in-chief that you have captured the island of Curasao does not appeal to you, My Lord? I would have thought that it would be - how do you say, "a feather in your cap".'

The idea appeals to me, Your Excellency, but you ask for a guarantee that the British defend the island. I am the person who - for the time being, and that is the only time that really matters - has to give that guarantee.'

'But I can see no difficulty .. .'

'Your Excellency - ' the voice was crisp now, van Someren noted - 'I have about two hundred seamen and forty Marines. How can I possibly guarantee to defend you with such a small force?'

There are my own troops as well! Together they make a strong force.'

Again he shook his head. 'You assume that because I have two hundred and forty men I can land them all like a few companies of infantry. But only the Marines have any training as soldiers. The seamen have been barefooted for months, and if they put on boots or shoes I'm afraid their feet would be blistered within an hour. And I need to keep fifty men on board.'

'Very well, if you don't want to fight. . .'

Again those eyes. It was an insulting thing to say, and not really meant: the words were only a measure of the disappointment at realizing that the Calypso would be sailing out of Amsterdam within - well, a few hours.

'Your Excellency, you should not assume that because we captured a French frigate yesterday without firing a shot we did not want to fight'

'Accept my apologies, please.' It was the only way, and one wanted this young man's respect. 'But is there no way you can help us? Have I not shown you that the French are now as much our enemies as yours?'

'I may be able to help you, Your Excellency, but not on your terms.'

What is he offering? Is he a sly fellow after all? Have I misjudged him? No, it is not possible. Anyway, words cost nothing except time. They can always be denied or twisted.

'But I have not insisted on any terms 1'

'You offer to surrender, Your Excellency, on one condition. Perhaps I should have said "condition", not ''terms",'

'Please explain more fully.' There might be some hope yet 'I cannot guarantee to defend the island. I can accept the island's surrender and hope that my commander-in-chief will agree to send troops and ships for its defence. But four weeks or more would pass before they arrive, even if my admiral agrees, and that would be much too late. The next four days are the critical ones for you. If you can survive the next - four days you will be safe for more than four weeks.'

'But we can't'

'No, I don't think you can. Your Excellency.'

'And you refuse to help us?'

'As things stand, I can't At the moment you are our enemy - you forget we are here under a flag of truce. If I helped you, I would be guilty of treason, of helping the enemy.'

And of course he is quite right; this Ramage has not let himself be dazzled by the idea of taking the surrender of an island. 'So, My Lord, we reach stalemate?'

He is shaking his head; quite a definite movement But has he an alternative proposal after all? His lieutenant is looking round at him, obviously surprised. Lausser is sitting rigidly in his chair. 'What do you propose, then?' The words sound strangled, but Ramage seems not to notice.

That you surrender without conditions, Your Excellency.'

'But, My Lord, you cannot expect me - why, you could sign the instrument and just sail away, leaving us to be slaughtered by these rebels.'

'I could.' And now he looks me straight in the eye. 'But then all I would have would be a worthless sheet of paper, not an island, so do you think I would?'

'No, I do not' In all honesty one has to admit that 'But why do"you reject my condition?'

'Your Excellency, I have told you. I can't sign a document guaranteeing you something which cannot be guaranteed. Some men would sign a document guaranteeing to make the sun rise in the west I am not one of them.'

"What do you suggest we do?' And here at last in the sixty - third year of my life, I, Gottlieb van Someren, Governor of Curacao, once honoured with several titles which had been held by many forebears but now officially addressed as 'Citizen', am asking a young British frigate captain what he suggests I do with the island I govern. The ironies of wars and revolution - and of Nature's delays too: where is the Delft? 'You have only one choice, Your Excellency. I think you know what it is.'

'I prefer to hear it from you.'

'Surrender the island without any condition, and put yourself under the protection of His Britannic Majesty. I repeat the last part - "put yourself under the protection of His Britannic Majesty". You get no guarantee about anything.'

'How will that help me or my people?'

Now he gives a boyish grin; not an artful or sly grin, but one of satisfaction.

'All it does is help me to help you. At this moment I can't help you in any way - indeed, it is doubtful if I should even be talking with you - because you are "the enemy". If you surrender and put yourself under British protection, you become my ally. And with a clear conscience I can do all I can to help you. But I could not sign any guarantee with a clear conscience. Shall we now compose a brief "instrument of surrender" and the four of us sign it?'

The English lieutenant's eyes light up. With his name on a document in which the British accept the surrender of Curacao, he knows his name goes down in history. And so does mine, but for the opposite reason. 'Yes, let us begin with a rough draft . . .' '

Aitken looked at the sheet of paper which Major Lausser had slid across the table towards him. It was a large sheet which had been folded in half to make four sides, and three of them were covered with the neat, copper - plate handwriting of the Governor's clerk, who had painstakingly copied the draft agreed by the captain and the Governor.

Aitken wiped the quill on a piece of cloth and dipped it in the ink. This was a fine thing, his name on a document (an 'instrument of surrender" was its proper name, apparently) by which the captain took the surrender of this whole island. Why, running before a fair wind it took the Calypso five or six hours to sail from one end to another. At least 400 square miles, perhaps more. The captain insisted he read it right through and say aloud, for them all to hear, that he understood it. Then, and only then, was he to sign it as one of the two representatives of His Britannic Majesty.

It would be printed in the London Gazette, that was certain. The Gazette would refer to the surrender, print the wording of the instrument, and give his name as well. A document of state, signed by him. But he wanted to read more slowly, even if the foreign gentlemen were showing signs of impatience, because he knew his hand was trembling, and he did not want to write a shaky signature.

It was a long way from Dunkeld to Amsterdam, from the Highlands of Scotland to this parched tropical island perched on the edge of the Spanish Main, and, despite the excitement and actions of the past few months, these latest twenty - four hours almost passed belief. At this very moment the frigate of which he was first lieutenant - of which he was second in command - was moored across the entrance channel of the port of the island of Curacao, the Netherlands' most important base in the West Indies. Not a man or vessel could stir without Captain Ramage's agreement. And now the captain was becoming impatient, too, but his hand still felt shaky.

'Sign under Major Lausser's name. Your full name, and then "Lieutenant in the Royal Navy and second - in - command of His Majesty's frigate the Calypso" underneath. Don't blot it.'

The captain was speaking quietly, just as he had been doing for the past couple of hours. And what a couple of hours. There were times when Mr Ramage had refused some Dutch request and it had seemed unreasonable: he, lames Aitken, would have agreed with the Dutch on that. Then a few minutes later it would become clear that the refusal was proof of how quickly the captain's mind had been working; he had looked far ahead and seen difficulties, and the Dutch Governor had finally agreed, often looking very crestfallen that he hadn't thought of it first.

Well, there was the result of it all: a folded sheet of paper in exchange for an island nearly forty miles long and with a harbour third only to Port Royal in Jamaica and Cartagena on the Main. And there were the signatures - Gottlieb van Someren, Governor; Lausser, Major; Ramage, Captain; and now James Aitken, Lieutenant.

And he had managed to write it without making a blot. The writing was a bit shaky, but Lausser had been nervous, too; he had wiped his hand before signing because it was obviously damp from perspiration. And perspiration meant nervousness because this room was delightfully cool, built so that the Trade wind blew along its entire length, and the sun was kept out by the jalousies.

Now a second copy was being passed across. This was the French version. The Governor had wanted the second copy to be in Dutch but Mr Ramage had refused because he did not speak the language. Finally they had agreed on French, which he suspected Mr Ramage spoke better than the Governor.

Now they all shook hands. The Governor paid him a nice compliment, too, about handling the Calypso and helping with the negotiations. And the Governor suddenly said, pointing at the signed documents: 'Before we were enemies; now we are friends.'

'But we have quite a task ahead of us,' Mr Ramage said, obviously warning the two Dutchmen that signing papers might end wars but it didn't win battles.