Ramage and the Renegades

CHAPTER TWELVE

Ramage sat in his chair behind his desk, not because he needed the desk in front of him but because his cabin was crowded with the four privateersmen, Aitken and Southwick. Aitken had hurried in to give a quick explanation of why he was bringing the privateersmen down and a couple of minutes later had led them in, Southwick following presumably because he realized something strange was happening.

'Strange' was the appropriate word. For the moment the privateersmen were settling themselves down with the leader, the Englishman calling himself Hart, sitting in what was usually regarded as Southwick's armchair and his three companions taking up the settee. Southwick stood one side of the door and Aitken the other, both stooped because there was not enough room to stand upright under the deck beams.

This is the first time I have taken my ship to a foreign island in peacetime, Ramage reflected, and I meet a situation more perplexing than any I met in the war. Perplexing because more than a hundred and fifty innocent lives are at stake: people I have never seen; men and women passengers, officers, petty officers and seamen from five merchant ships: Dutch, French and British. What did this fellow Hart want or intend? Well, the privateersmen seemed to be waiting for him to start the proceedings.

'Well, Mr Hart, my first lieutenant tells me you command the Lynx privateer, and you claim that the merchant ships anchored here are your prizes.'

'Correct, except for the "claim". I'm not "claiming"; they are.'

Ramage nodded, as if accepting the point, but he said quietly, as though mentioning it apologetically: 'Britain and France have signed a treaty: Britain is now at peace with France, Spain and the Netherlands. Can you take prizes in time of peace?'

'We can,' Hart said bluntly. 'We have.'

Again Ramage nodded. 'The two British, two French and one Dutch ships I see at anchor here?'

'Those very ones. And probably another two or three within a week: our sister ship is still at sea.'

'Yes, it must be quite easy taking prizes now,' Ramage said. 'No one expecting trouble: guns not loaded - in fact I expect many merchant ships will have landed their guns.'

'They will, they will,' Hart said confidently.

'What do you propose doing with your prizes?'

At that moment the black spoke to Hart in rapid Spanish, demanding to know what was being discussed. Ramage was surprised at the words the man chose. He was careful to keep the tone of voice suitable for a seaman who was probably a bodyguard, but the actual words in Spanish were those an officer would use to a seaman. Clearly neither Hart nor the black had the slightest idea that Ramage spoke Spanish. The only trouble was that Ramage's Spanish and accent were Castilian, while the black spoke the crude and heavily-accented Spanish of the New World; almost as hard to understand as the Creole spoken by blacks in the French islands.

'What are you telling this man?' the black was asking.

'Just that the ships are our prizes, Tomás.'

'You be sure he makes no argument.'

'He is not. He is accepting everything.'

'Why?' The black was shrewd and probably the real captain of the Lynx: Ramage was becoming quite sure of that.

'I do not know,' Hart said vaguely. 'What else can he do?'

'Find out,' Tomás said.

Hart turned to Ramage with a friendly smile. 'Tomás speaks no English; I was explaining what we had been discussing.'

'Perhaps you'd like to translate for the benefit of your French mate as well?'

Hart nodded and quickly related to Belmont the gist of the conversation so far, and Ramage's suspicion was confirmed: Belmont was of no consequence. Once again the tone was right but the words used were those a master would use to a petty officer, not his second-in-command.

The hierarchy of the Lynx, Ramage guessed, was that the big Spanish Negro, Tomás, was the leader, with Hart the second-in-command, while Belmont and the silent blond were mates.

'Well, Captain,' Hart said smoothly, 'you do not seem very surprised to find five prizes anchored here at Trinidade!'

'Oh, I wouldn't say that,' Ramage said vaguely. Tomás would not understand the words, but he would be quick to notice if a foreigner was an ineffectual man. Clearly Hart knew of Captain Ramage - he had made that clear at the beginning - but Tomás would not believe him if he saw that this Captain Ramage had a vague and indecisive manner. Even Hart might begin to wonder. 'Well, yes, I suppose I was surprised to find ships here. After all, it isn't a very big island. It takes a lot of finding.'

'You had trouble?' Hart asked casually.

'Oh yes. Our chronometer is not very accurate.' He was careful not to look at Southwick as he added: 'Fortunately one can run the westing down.'

Hart said quickly in Spanish to Tomás: 'They had to run their westing down to find this place.'

Tomás said nothing and Ramage said innocently to Hart: 'You did not say what you were going to do with your prizes.'

'No, I didn't. It now depends on you, to some extent.'

Ramage thought quickly, and then yawned, delicately picking fluff from his coat. 'Oh, does it? It's not really my responsibility, you know. After all, you're the privateer. Well, the war's over now, so I suppose your letter of marque has expired, or whatever it does when a war ends. But your prizes are your affair - after all, even if the war was still on, they'd still be no concern of mine.'

'I'm glad to hear you say it,' Hart said.

'Oh indeed,' Ramage said, as though politely delighted that Hart agreed. 'I have my orders from the Admiralty and I really can't get involved in anything else - not without orders from their Lordships.'

'Might one ask if your orders will keep you here for long?' Hart asked cautiously.

Ramage shook his head and resumed the search for fluff on his coat. 'There's no secret about my orders: I've come here to survey the island and map it, and make a chart of the anchorages.'

'Why? Are the Admiralty going to start using it?'

'Use it?' Ramage said scornfully. 'I doubt it! Who the devil could find it! Anyway, it's a long way to anywhere else. No, Ascension is good enough for the Cape and John Company ships.'

'Why the sudden interest in Trinidade, then?'

'It's not a sudden interest in Trinidade,' Ramage said, with another yawn. 'The war is over, but the Admiralty have to keep a certain number of ships in commission, especially frigates. So they are sending several of them off to survey various unusual places. I expect one has gone to St Paul Rocks and another to Fernando de Noronha, for example. And probably Ascension; the charts for them are terrible, I know.'

'So how—' Hart was interrupted by Tomás asking what was being discussed. Hart told him that Ramage was not concerned about the privateer; that he wanted to avoid any responsibility, and that he was only concerned with carrying out his orders, to survey Trinidade.

'How long does he plan to be here?'

'I'll ask him.'

'You had better tell him why he cannot interfere with the prizes.'

'But he does not intend to anyway.'

'If he is going to be here long,' Tomás said, obviously controlling his impatience with Hart, 'it is only a matter of time before someone from one of the prizes raises the alarm. Anyway, this Ramage will expect to be invited to dinner by the other masters. When no invitations come, even he will get suspicious - if he can stay awake long enough.'

Ramage managed to keep his face blank at this unwitting praise for his acting. But what on earth was Tomás talking about?

'How long do you reckon on staying here, then?' Hart asked.

Ramage held out his hands, palms uppermost, in a gesture well understood by all Latins. 'Who knows? How big is the island, how long will my surveyors and draughtsmen take with their maps? How long will my lieutenants take with their soundings? Two months, four, six? Blessed if I know. I should think you'll be long gone before we've finished.'

Hart nodded, but was obviously puzzled how to carry out the important part of Tomás's instructions.

'Captain Ramage,' he said, a more formal note in his voice. 'About these prizes of ours...'

Ramage raised an eyebrow. 'Your affair, my dear chap. If you take prizes that's your responsibility. The courts decide, as you know. You might have trouble over those two British ships, of course - unless they'd been captured by the French, and you recaptured them. But I'm not the judge and I'm sure you know all about the Prize Act.'

'Oh yes, don't worry your head about that, sir,' Hart said, a confidential note in his voice. 'No, what I was going to explain is that of course we have prize crews on board each of the ships.'

'Oh yes, I assumed that.'

'Yes, and our men have orders,' Hart said casually but there was no mistaking the warning, 'to kill all the passengers the minute they see there's any danger of losing a ship.'

'What, if the prize crew run a ship on a reef, they murder the passengers? Hardly seems just, I must say.'

Hart clucked like a disappointed schoolteacher. 'No, no, no sir, not that sort of danger. I mean if they saw there was any chance of their ships being recaptured...'

'Can't see who'd try to do that,' Ramage said, obviously puzzled. 'After all, the war is over. Why, that'd be an act of piracy, surely?'

A contented smile spread over Hart's face. 'Why, of course, sir, that's exactly what it would be, and that is why our prize crews have those orders; we have to be on our guard against piracy.'

Again Ramage looked puzzled, scratching his head with one hand and tugging at the knee of his breeches with the other. 'Yes, but I can't see how killing the passengers keeps pirates away.'

'Oh, I see what you mean, Captain, but if you just think of it as insurance, you'll understand.'

'Ah yes, just insurance. Very wise too: never sail underinsured, somebody once told me. "Beware of barratry by master and crew and pay the premiums promptly" - that was what he said, and it's wise advice, don't you think?'

'Indeed it is,' Hart patiently agreed, 'and we have the officers and men staying in a camp on shore.' He turned to Tomás, saying in Spanish: 'I have told him about the hostages and he sees nothing wrong about us having prizes. He might be a brave man - he must be, to have his reputation - but he's a fool. He's swallowed our story like a pike taking a minnow. So we can wait for our friends with more prizes, and then we can all sail in one convoy, leaving this pudding to finish his survey.'

'Good, so now be helpful: tell him where to get fresh water. Then he will not be suspicious.'

Hart waved away the idea. 'It is not necessary, Tomás. He is not short of water, or he would have asked us about rivers and springs. No, believe me, I understand these people. We say goodbye now and go.'

'Lead the way and say the right things then,' Tomás said, and anyone listening but unable to speak Spanish would not have realized that the big black had been giving orders.

Fifteen minutes later Southwick was sitting in the armchair, Aitken leaned back on the settee with his hat beside him, and Ramage sat at the desk, looking far removed from the vague, hesitant and languid individual who had talked to the privateersmen.

'What was the flag of truce all about?' Southwick asked.

Ramage looked at Aitken, who shook his head. 'I think they thought we might have known what they were doing,'

Ramage said. 'The sight of one of the King's ships sailing into the bay must have startled them. But as we didn't have our portlids up and guns run out, they were puzzled too. By coming out under flag of truce, perhaps they thought they were safeguarding their own necks.'

'I couldn't understand the Spanish parts, sir,' Aitken said, 'but why did Hart take so much trouble to translate for that black while ignoring the other two?'

'The black is the leader,' Ramage said. 'He's the deep one; ten times the brains of Hart.'

Southwick gave a deep sniff and Ramage guessed that he was impressed by the black's shrewdness. 'What was his name? Thomas?'

'The Spanish version. Hart speaks reasonably good Spanish and good French.'

'Comes from the West Country,' Southwick commented. 'Bristol, I reckon.'

'Probably, because he said the Lynx hailed from there,' Aitken said. 'Mind you, it's a fake name, I'll be bound.'

Ramage let the two men gossip for a few more minutes because, having just had a shock when they did not expect it, they needed some idle talk to let their thoughts settle. Then the questions would come poking up, like fish in a stream looking for flies. Finally Aitken coughed and both Southwick and Ramage looked at him.

'When that fellow Hart said that their prize crews had orders to kill the passengers if the ships were in danger, sir, what did he mean?'

Ramage's face hardened and his brown eyes seemed more sunken than ever, his high cheekbones becoming more pronounced and his narrow nose more beaklike.

'We were being warned. Hart was telling us that they have armed men in each merchant ship, guarding the passengers, who are in fact hostages. He said the officers and men are on shore "in a camp". That means there are a dozen or more hostages in each vessel, and if we make any attempt to recapture any of the ships or attack the Lynx, they'll simply massacre the hostages.'

'Stalemate,' Southwick said crossly.

'I wish it was,' Ramage said. 'At the moment the privateers hold the pistol at our heads. We can do nothing. That devil Tomás has probably given orders that if we so much as wave a musket, all the hostages get their throats cut. Remember, a privateer carries a large number of men solely to provide crews for the prizes. I doubt if the Lynx needs even one man from an original crew to sail a ship, so the officers and men could be thrown over the side. I've no idea if they'll bother to ransom the hostages - they might think it too much effort and risk for too little profit.

'They'll sell each ship and cargo for cash to unscrupulous owners anxious to increase their fleets. Paint out the old name, line in a new, hoist fresh colours and no one will ever guess that's a ship which apparently vanished while the war was on.'

Southwick nodded admiringly. 'Privateers in wartime and pirates in peace. More profitable in peacetime - they're not at the mercy of the Admiralty court judge's valuation of a prize: they get the full market value with no deductions for agents, court fees and bribes. And, being pirates, they can disregard a ship's colours - look at the ones they've got out there: French, Dutch and British. No Spanish, though; perhaps this fellow Tomás draws the line at that!'

Ramage shook his head. 'That man has no loyalty to anything. There are no Spanish simply because there are so few Spanish ships at sea. Wait until the Lynx's sister ship comes in - she may have picked up a Don.'

'Well, what are we going to do?' Southwick asked angrily. 'We can't just look at these devils knowing that the ships are prisons for the passengers.'

'We can send the men to quarters and weigh and sink the Lynx. Mind you, you wouldn't have the bars in the capstan or the portlids raised before every hostage would be dead,' Ramage said quietly.

Aitken said: 'What do you propose, sir?'

'Let's wait a few days and just watch. We'll put the surveyors on shore each day, and you can send off Martin and Orsini in boats to take soundings and start that chart. Get the privateersmen accustomed to seeing our boats bustling about - but keep away from the prizes. Not obviously; just don't let any boat pass within hail.'

Southwick sniffed doubtfully, because he was not a man to play a waiting game, and the privateer had provoked him. 'How long do we wait, sir?'

"Wait" is not the correct word. We "observe" - like one of Aitken's poachers hiding in a clump of trees for a day or two before shooting one of the laird's deer. I want a detailed watch kept on the ships day and night: one man for each ship. Note what boats come and go, men leaving and arriving, stores, what work is done, the guards and where they are and how often they're changed, what the passengers do and how many... I want some good men who can write given this job. Jackson and people like that.'

'Bowen gets bored, sir,' Southwick commented. 'Just the sort of thing he'd like doing.'

'Very well, but they must keep out of sight: I don't want the privateersmen to realize we are keeping a special watch on them. But of course they might try to board us!'

'Do you think they'll try?' Aitken sounded hopeful.

'It probably depends on whether or not brother Tomás believed my play-acting. He'll have about a hundred men in the Lynx, and he can guard the hostages with twenty-five. Would he risk trying to capture a frigate with seventy-five men...'

'You would,' Southwick said.

'Only if I had no choice! But I don't think Tomás feels trapped: I'm sure he believes having the hostages is enough insurance.'

'Plus having a sleepy and vague captain commanding the frigate,' Southwick said. 'Your performance would have convinced me - and I speak English! The way you tried to avoid any responsibility: Hart was delighted with that! Little does he know how many times First Lords and admirals have lost their tempers and accused you of taking too much responsibility!'

'Being sleepy and vague gave me a little time to think,' Ramage admitted. 'I was sitting here expecting the pompous master of one of the John Company ships to invite me to dinner to make conversation with his tedious passengers. Instead Aitken brings in a quartet of the most improbable scoundrels with a story that almost beggars the imagination!'

Aitken grinned and stood up. 'If you'll excuse me, sir. I think I'll go and arrange the first watch of lookouts: I'd like to take each man and "introduce" him to his ship. We had better start a log for each ship, so that in a day or so we will know how many are on board, who are prisoners and who guards.'

Ramage opened a drawer of his desk and took out a polished mahogany case. As he opened it, Southwick grinned. 'The Marchesa would like to see you getting those pistols out and loading them, sir: it's a long time since she bought them for you.'

'The day I was made post,' Ramage recalled, 'we went to Bond Street with my father. In fact I remember the Admiraland I waiting in the gunsmith while the Marchesa was in another shop buying lace. Then she came in and bought pistols!'

'Impasse.' Ramage crossed out the words and wrote 'checkmate'. Then he ran a line through 'mate': it was certainly 'check' as far as Tomás and Jebediah Hart were concerned, but not checkmate: Ramage guessed he still had a move - if only he could see what it was.

The privateersmen - curious how he avoided thinking of them as pirates: perhaps because it seemed absurd in these modern times to realize that pirates still existed - had five ships and nearly fifty passengers as hostages. Neither Hart nor Tomás had threatened the safety of the ships' companies, who would number about two hundred and fifty.

Very well, he had written down a single word describing the situation, but what did he know, or guess? First, there were two privateers, the Lynx and another which was still out looking for more victims and which was due back in 'a few days'.

Where would the prizes be taken? Unless cargoes and hulls could be sold, there was no point in capturing the merchant ships. Well, obviously not to British, Dutch or French ports, judging from the nationality of the present victims. Tomás was Spanish-speaking; the nearest ports - conveniently to leeward, as well - were Portuguese in Brazil or Spanish to the southwest.

Ramage wrote 'Prizes sold in River Plate ports?' That gave him a choice of Montevideo or Buenos Aires. The River Plate, nearly a hundred miles wide, was a busy area; the Spanish merchants there would always need ships. Particularly now, he realized. The war had meant that many, if not most, of the merchant ships trading in that area, and occasionally making a bolt for Spain to sell hides and bring back manufactured goods (what the Jonathan traders called 'notions'), had been captured by the Royal Navy. They were not restored to their owners by the absurd treaty, so Spanish shipowners would be looking round for suitable replacement vessels to buy. And they must be in a hurry, because every merchant along the banks of the River Plate would be anxious to ship something to somewhere else: goods made a profit only when they moved to the market place; stored in warehouses they cost money. Nor was that an original thought: it had been pointed out to him several years ago by Sidney Yorke, the young man who owned a small fleet of merchant ships.

Anyway, that answered the question of what happened to the ships. What about the hostages? The ships' officers would not be worth anything; they would probably be killed or, with the crews of the ships, put on shore at one of the remoter Brazilian ports. But how was a ransom demand for the hostages going to be sent on to those able (and willing) to pay? A message for the hostages' respective governments could be put on board homeward-bound ships, naming the prices and where the money should be paid over - somewhere like Madrid, or Cadiz, he presumed.

Yet compared with the value of the ships, the problems of collecting ransom entailed a great deal of work for very little profit, quite apart from the delays involved. Governments or relatives would want assurances that the hostages would be handed over safely. Neither Hart nor Tomás seemed the kind of man for that sort of work.

Ramage wrote 'Fate of hostages?', and then added: 'Murdered or released without ransom?' He guessed that Tomás would vote for murder and Hart for release. Which of the two men really was the leader?

Then he wrote down the question whose answer he hardly dared to think about: 'What is the consequence of the Calypso's arrival?'

The privateers had been quick to act. Obviously they had a lookout on the island who had spotted the Calypso on the eastern horizon, but the speed with which they arranged the hostages and made their plans showed that the Lynx was commanded by a decisive captain, not an argumentative committee of privateersmen. Tomás or Hart? He needed to know because one of them would murder without hesitation.

The final question was: 'Can they blackmail me into leaving with the Calypso?'

Of course they could! But would they? From the Lynx's point of view, having the Calypso at anchor here ensured she was helpless: any action by her could provoke the murder of the hostages. On the other hand the Calypso at sea and out of sight could be fetching reinforcements (not much of a threat, considering the distances involved) or by chance meeting another of the King's ships (quite likely farther to the east, on the Cape route). Or could be intercepting the second privateer, surprising her with her prizes and sinking her.

Ramage cursed to himself: he was far from sure that having reached a stalemate here with the Lynx, he should not sail and try to catch her consort. But would Tomás and Hart let him sail? On the whole it seemed unlikely, and the decision certainly rested with them. Suddenly to sail with the Calypso would panic the privateersmen, causing them to murder everyone, abandon their prizes and flee.

Abruptly he realized that the sentry was now rapping on the door of his cabin, a sure sign that previous calls had gone unheard. A shout from Ramage brought Orsini into the cabin to report that the survey and sounding parties were now ready and Mr Aitken had them paraded along the gangway.

Ramage wiped his pen, put the cap on the inkwell, stood up and reached for his hat. The difference between a young midshipman and a post captain, he thought sourly, is that the midshipman goes off on an expedition while the captain stays behind and scribbles . . .

He found three groups of men waiting for him. The largest, under the second lieutenant, Wagstaffe, comprised the surveyor Williams, both draughtsmen, the grey-haired botanist, Garret, and five Marines with Renwick.

His instructions were brief. The party was to land at the most suitable place, choosing somewhere they would use for the next few days. The boat would then anchor off, leaving a couple of seamen in it as boatkeepers. The survey would then start, continuing until there was not enough light, and without being too obvious Renwick would choose the sites for batteries. The posts with the plaques would be erected, claiming the island as British.

'It is most important,' he emphasized, 'that you all go about your business as though the privateer was not here. For the time being we have to pretend this is simply an anchorage for six ships. Don't do anything to spoil the impression I've given the privateersmen - that I will do nothing without orders from the Admiralty. So go ahead and measure your angles and distances. What will be your base?'

'I thought we'd erect a flagpole on the highest peak - or on a suitable platform which can be seen from all parts of the island.' David Williams said.

'Yes, but don't forget a signal platform will have to be manned eventually, and that means soldiers or seamen climbing up to it, perhaps in the dark.'

Williams nodded and admitted: 'Yes, sir, I'd forgotten that aspect. I was looking at it from a surveyor's point of view.'

Ramage turned to Renwick. 'You may find the camp on shore where the privateersmen are guarding the crews of their prizes. If so, give it a wide berth, but note its position and, without being too obvious about it, see how many men are on guard.'

'Details we'd need if we planned to rescue the prisoners,' Renwick said confidently.

'Exactly - but don't arouse the privateersmen's suspicions.'

With that he went on to the second survey party, led by Walter White and commanded by the Calypso's third lieutenant, Kenton. They had five Marines under Sergeant Ferris, but like Renwick's group they were dressed as seamen. Ramage was anxious not to alarm the privateersmen. Men dressed as seamen would arouse no curiosity but Marine jackets and crossbelts would. For the same reason the men were armed with cutlasses and pistols, not muskets. The pistols would not be very obvious; everyone knew that cutlasses were needed to cut a path through the waist-high brushwood covering much of the island.

With the second survey party following the first to shore, Ramage turned to the soundings team, commanded by Martin. They had, as instructed, all their equipment on the deck in front of them: two leads, the lines neatly coiled, an old butter firkin full of tallow, a boat compass, three notebooks, a quadrant and a telescope.

Ramage picked up one lead and inspected it, then the other. Each was a solid cylinder of lead, with an eye at one end to which the line was attached, and a depression cast in the other, to be filled with tallow.

Pointing at the firkin of tallow, Ramage said: 'Don't forget it's as important to know the type of bottom as the depth, so make sure you keep on inspecting what sticks to the tallow, and wiping it off before the next cast. Sand, small shell, broken coral, volcanic mud, silt... note it all down, and make sure you get your abbreviations right: don't rely on "s" - it could mean sand, silt or shell.

'Have you decided your base lines for triangulation?' He addressed the question to Martin, but was just as interested to see what Orsini had learned about chartmaking from Southwick in the last few hours.

'Yes, sir,' Martin said. 'Those two rocks that stand up like chimneys.' He pointed to one near the privateer, and a second one halfway along the peninsula forming the northern side of the bay.

Orsini said: "That first rock means we can keep on looking at the privateer, too.'

Ramage nodded. 'Yes, the number of men and the times they leave or board the Lynx. By the way, Martin, if you suspect there are isolated rocks, get a second boat so that you can sink a line between the two of you and sweep the bottom. Or anyway drag to a definite depth.'

'How deep, sir?'

'Five fathoms,' Ramage said. Few ships drawing thirty feet would ever anchor here; the phrase 'Swept to thirty feet' written on a chart was a warning that below five fathoms there might be isolated rocks to foul an anchor cable. It was all too common for a ship's cable to wind itself round rock or coral as she headed first one way and then another with each change of wind or tide, and often the first hint of trouble came only when trying to weigh - or the rock chafed through the rope and the ship found herself drifting, her cable cut and an anchor lost.

Turning to Rossi and Stafford, each of whom was now wearing a canvas apron to keep some of the water off them as they hauled up the lead, he said: 'You'll find Mr Martin will take you close to one or two of the prizes as you row a line of soundings. Tell him anything you notice - number of guns, how many guards, if any passengers are on deck, if sheets, braces or tacks have been unrove . . . you know the sort of thing.'

A few minutes later the boat was heading for the first rock, and through the telescope Ramage could see that she was being watched by the privateersmen. Once she was past the Lynx and the men started heaving the lead as the boat was rowed slowly across the bay, the privateersmen lost interest: the Calypso's boat was doing what their captain had said he had orders to do ...

Ramage snapped the telescope shut and said to Aitken: 'You have your shipwatchers at work?'

Aitken grinned and said: 'The privateersmen won't spot them if you can't see them, sir.'

Together they walked over to Bowen: the surgeon was wedged into the shadowy corner of a gunport, a slate on his knees.

'Not much to report, sir. There are at least eight guards. They had eight women walking the deck for half an hour, and then eight men - I presume the husbands; they were not dressed as seamen - for another half an hour. They used the after companionway.'

That was an important point: it meant that in the Earl of Dodsworth, one of the Honourable East India Company's newest ships, the sixteen passengers were almost certainly being kept prisoner in their own cabins. Eight married couples, eight cabins. Or were some of the women daughters with separate cabins? Or one or two of the men bachelors? It was a hopeless problem to work out. East Indiamen varied in the number of passengers they carried: there were different classes, the people ranging from important members of theCompany and its military service to clerks and writers, as they were called. Those big ships normally carried a couple of dozen passengers, the dozen most important paying a hundred pounds each (with food and linen extra) for the passage and the honour of dining at the captain's table.

Bowen grunted and wrote on his slate. 'Another four women, and the same eight guards - I recognize their shirts.' He picked up the telescope again. 'The guards have cutlasses. I presume pistols, too, but I can't distinguish them.'

'Looks as though they put a limit of eight prisoners on deck at any one time,' Aitken commented. 'Probably means eight guards. These four women will have four husbands . . .'

'Why not exercise the four men with the women, then?' Bowen asked.

'I've no idea,' Aitken answered. 'Modest privateers, no doubt.'

Ramage said: 'Keeping the wives separate from the husbands creates uncertainty. The men worry about their women; the women are lost without their husbands.' And I should know, he thought; the Herveys will have long since arrived in Paris and Gianna will have gone on to Volterra - providing Bonaparte has not already arrested her or the Herveys persuaded her to abandon the journey. At that moment he realized for the first time that the Corsican was cunning enough to keep his secret police away from her: his spies might well have told him that there were desperate men in Volterra who, the minute the Marchesa returned to rule again, would do Bonaparte's work for him ...

'Have you any idea if she's homeward or outward bound?' Aitken asked Bowen.

'Homeward, I should think,' the surgeon said promptly. 'Every piece of standing and running rigging is grey; the sun has bleached the John Company colours -' he indicated the flag flapping in the breeze, the red bars now a faded pink. 'Before the first of January this year John Company ships flew that ensign, seven white and six red horizontal stripes, with an old Union in the upper canton of the fly. If she's come from India she won't yet know of the change in the Union.'

Aitken nodded and grinned. 'For a surgeon, you're well informed on flag etiquette.'

'I always remember Southwick saying it looked like alternate slices of lean and fat bacon, but the only change now is adding the red saltire of the Irish after the Act of Union.'

Ramage watched Martin turn his boat as it reached the first rock and stop while a seaman hove the lead for the first sounding. Not above four fathoms, from the look of it, and close to the Lynx. Would the privateer draw more than a couple of fathoms, twelve feet, on that length? Perhaps, to give a bite when she was driving to windward after a prize. If they had any sense, they 'd anchor closer in, where it was too shallow for the Calypso, to guard against a surprise attack. Still, it was proof enough of their confidence that they had not done so: they must be sure that Captain Ramage would never risk the hostages who at the sound of the first shot would have their throats cut...

He walked with Aitken to where Southwick, with the second telescope, was watching the second British ship and the Dutch one. 'Nothing very exciting, sir,' the master reported. 'The British ship, the Amethyst, seems to have ten passengers and four guards. They had three women on deck for half an hour, then seven men. Same four guards, and I haven't seen anyone else. The Dutchman's the Friesland. I reckon both ships are homeward bound: new rigging here and there, but simply replacing worn.'

'Amethyst ... do you remember the Topaz?' Ramage asked.

Why, surely she must be one of Mr Yorke's ships - weren't all of them named after precious stones, sir?'

'Yes, but I don't know how many he has. A dozen or so, I think.'

'Well,' Southwick said, as though announcing his verdict after judging a case, 'I've seldom seen a ship in such good shape: I was going to comment that her owners didn't stint the master when it came to paint and ropework. So she could be one of his fleet. He'll be grateful to us.'

'So far all we've done is look at her,' Ramage said sourly. 'Are you sure about the number of guards in the ships?'

'Yes, four in each. What's Bowen report on the Earl of Dodsworth?'

'Eight guards for sixteen passengers.'

'Ah, Army officers going on leave! The privateersmen are wary of those in John Company's military service. A few wild subalterns will not take kindly to being prisoners.'

'Good thinking,' Ramage said, irritated that he had not worked it out for himself. 'But why not keep them on shore with the seamen?'

Southwick sniffed, a slightly patronizing sniff that Ramage, who could have answered his own question a moment after he had spoken it, knew only too well: it said, without uttering a word, that 'old Southwick' knew most of the answers. He often did, too, which was why the sniff infuriated every officer in the Calypso.

Very well, the Company's military officers were being kept on board the Earl of Dodsworth because it was easier to guard prisoners locked in a cabin than kept in a tent among a few score seamen. The passenger cabins of a John Company ship were substantial, probably mahogany; the cabins of a man of war were canvas stretched over light wooden frames . . .

The bosun, lying comfortable along the barrel of the fourth gun on the starboard side, proffered his slate but Ramage, glimpsing the sprawling writing, said: 'Tell me in your own words.'

'Well, this Heliotrope –'he pronounced the name correctly, having listened to his orders from Aitken, but spoke it with the distaste of a bishop's wife referring at breakfast to an errant curate, '- has four privateersmen on board as guards, an' six passengers - two men and two women and two children, a boy an' a girl. Guards armed with cutlasses. No muskets. Perhaps pistols but I couldn't see any. Passengers kept aft - probably in their own cabins. They pump the ship once an hour for about ten minutes. All French ships leak, so it's nothing to worry about. Sails furled, sheets, tacks and braces rove... s'about all, sir.'

It was very good, considering the bosun had no telescope.

'Did they pump while the prisoners were on deck?'

'No, sir: they brought up the women and children first and exercised 'em: then pumped; then brought the men up. They're due to pump again any minute.'

The gunner, the only man in the ship Ramage disliked and regarded as incompetent, but did nothing about changing, had kept a sharp lookout on the remaining ship, the French Commerce. 'No prisoners brought up while I've been watching, sir. Four privateersmen just walking about and leaning on the taffrail, spitting. Not all at once; I've distinguished four different men. Seem to have no duties; one comes on deck and looks round, then I don't see anyone for half an hour.'

As they walked back to the quarterdeck, Aitken said to Ramage: 'The Earl of Dodsworth seems their prize of prizes, then the Amethyst, Heliotrope and Friesland rank equal.'

Roughly one guard to two hostages, Ramage noted. Tomás and Hart were not making idle threats about murdering them if necessary: each guard would have a pistol and a cutlass...

He left Aitken on the quarterdeck watching Martin's progress sounding towards the second rock. He saw the other two boats lying to grapnels off the beach, so the two surveying parties should be at work. Ramage sat down at his desk with a sigh and pulled his notes towards him. He wrote a second page, naming the five ships, and listing the number of passengers and guards. Then he added up the totals - forty passengers (seventeen women, twenty-one men and two children) and twenty-four guards.

Assuming the five ships had the usual number of officers and men, there would be sixty-five or seventy officers and men being guarded on shore, and given that there was no suitable building, this would be the biggest task for the privateersmen - unless . . . Ramage's stomach shrivelled at the idea: unless all those officers, petty officers and seamen had been warned that any attempt at escape would mean the massacre of the passengers. That would explain why the passengers were under guard in the ships and the crews on shore when the Calypso arrived. The passengers were already the hostages; it had taken no stroke of genius to tell the Calypso what they had already told the crews of their prizes.

Ramage was just realizing the hopelessness of his position when he thought of the second privateer, due in any day with more prizes. More ships, more passengers, more guards, and her own crew to reinforce the Lynx's men watching the prisoners on shore. There was no reason to suppose she would be less successful than the Lynx, so any day now there could be another five prizes here, with forty-eight guards watching eighty hostages . . . Enough privateersmen with enough hostages, Ramage realized - and wished he had gone on halfpay, as Gianna had wanted - to force the Calypso to surrender. And he knew, without giving it a moment's more thought, that the instant Tomás or Hart demanded the surrender of the Calypso as the price for not massacring eighty hostages, he would agree. He had no choice, although no court martial could ever agree because none of the captains forming the court would ever believe that Tomás and Hart would carry out their threat. One had to see both men's eyes to understand that: they were both outcasts from the human race by their own choice. In wartime, privateers with genuine letters of marque were permitted, but privateersmen who, when the peace came, made the coldblooded decision to become pirates and prey on ships of all nationalities, were turning their backs on civilization; they were quite deliberately striding into the jungle, and no naval captain sitting at a table in the great cabin of one of the King's ships listening to the evidence against Captain Ramage on several charges - he heard an echo of the crazy voice of the Invincible's captain - would understand, or even think of, the law of the jungle.

'But what made you think. Captain Ramage, that, ah, the privateersmen, would carry out their threat to murder the hostages?'

'The look in their eyes.'

'So you thereupon surrendered His Majesty's frigate the Calypso, and her ship's company?'

'Yes, sir."

'Because of the look in a privateersman's eye?'

It sounded ludicrous and it sounded unbelievable, and he could hear the knowing laughs of the other members of the court. There would be pressure, too, from the Honourable East India Company, who would probably be smarting from the loss of the Earl of Dodsworth - the underwriters might well not pay out for a ship lost to pirates in peacetime: Indiamen were armed to beat off pirates in the Eastern seas, but the Earl of Dodsworth did not expect to find an enemy this side of the Equator. Along the Malabar coast, yes, every John Company ship expected to find pirates there, but not in the middle of the South Atlantic.

There is only one way out of it, he thought miserably. Boarding parties will have to swim over on a dark night and deal with the guards.

Suddenly he sat up. There were enough swimmers in the ship's company. It might work - it depended how often the guards were inspected by people from the Lynx. It would take a day or two of observation to find out.