'What was she going to do, sir?' Wagstaffe asked. 'I mean, before she was ordered to Spain.'
'They were going to send her to sea as a privateer - I think the Captain-General hoped she'd pay for herself with prize money. They couldn't afford to pay enough seamen; that's why they were using soldiers: they are paid by Madrid.'
'So just as she's ready to sail as a privateer, they get orders to send her to Spain, ' Southwick commented. 'They must be hard up for ships over there; I'd have thought she'd have done more good out here.'
Ramage nodded; he had given that a lot of thought while reading the letters. 'I think Madrid has always regarded the Indies simply as a gold mine. As soon as there's enough bullion ready, they send a small fleet to escort it to Cadiz. In between times the Indies have to look after themselves.'
'Pity we don't have gold mines, ' Aitken said. 'When you want to build another dozen ships of the line you just send to the Indies for some more gold.'
'Hasn't done 'em much good in the past, ' Southwick said contemptuously. 'They've been digging out gold for nearly 250 years, and neither their fleet nor their army is worth a tinker's cuss.'
There was a knock on the door and Ramage's clerk came in holding several sheets of paper: 'The orders, sir, for your signature.'
Ramage took them and sat at the desk. He glanced through the top page, signed it and gave it to Wagstaffe.
'There you are. Now you are in command of the Calypso, and you send fifty men back to the Jocasta. You're sure you can handle her with the rest?'
'Quite sure, sir. Sixty men are more than enough.'
'Very well. The rendezvous is given: wait three days and if we don't meet you before then, make your way to English Harbour and give the report to Admiral Davis.'
Ramage signed the report addressed to the Admiral, and gave it to the clerk to take away and seal.
'I'm sorry to bring you back from the Calypso' Ramage told Aitken.
The young Scot grinned cheerfully. 'I'm glad to be back in the Jocasta, sir. It's not often we get a chance of cutting out ships. I'm getting a taste for it! '
Ramage turned back to Wagstaffe. 'You are satisfied with Baker and Kenton? It looks as though it's going to be watch-and-watch-about for you for a week or two.'
'We'll be all right, sir, although I think they were looking forward to taking the Santa Barbara back to English Harbour.'
'I'm sorry to disappoint them, but if you take a prize on the way back they can toss up for the honour of commanding her.'
The clerk brought back the report for Admiral Davis, and Ramage, after inspecting the seal, gave it to Wagstaffe. He listened to the movement on deck for a few moments. 'I think the last of the prisoners are ready to be taken over to the Santa Barbara. Southwick, you'd better send Velasquez to see me.'
With that the three men left. Ramage rubbed his face with a towel and was thankful it was not a humid night. He tugged his stock straight, ran a comb through his hair, and put the rolled-up chart back in the rack. He glanced round the cabin - it looked exactly as Velasquez had left it when the Calypso came alongside.
A stamping of feet down the companionway warned him that Velasquez was being brought down with an escort of at least two Marines.
'Spanish officer, h'under h'escort, sir, ' the sentry announced.
'Send him in, but the escort can stay outside.'
Velasquez came into the cabin warily, as though expecting a wild animal to leap at him out of the shadows.
'Good morning, ' Ramage said in Spanish.
Velasquez had not seen him sitting at the desk and he took a step back.
'Come in, ' Ramage said. 'Sit on the settee.'
'You speak Spanish! ' Velasquez exclaimed. 'Why - you are the leader of the mutineers! But that uniform! Why do you wear it?'
'It fits me rather well, doesn't it?' Ramage remarked conversationally.
'Yes, but -'
'It should, of course; it was made for me by one of the best tailors in London.'
'But you are a mutineer! '
'No, ' Ramage said quietly, 'you just thought I was.'
'The rest of the men, ' Velasquez said lamely. 'I just saw some of them in Army uniform . . .'
'Marine uniform, ' Ramage corrected him.
Velasquez flopped down on the settee. 'I do not understand. They sent me a warning from El Pilar that the Santa Barbara was bringing in another English frigate with a mutinous crew. I assumed all the details had been arranged by that fool Lopez, and that she was just to berth alongside me.'
'Lopez was a prisoner; the Santa Barbara was an English prize by then.'
'Yes, I realize that now. But you, Senor?'
'Nicholas Ramage, at your service; a captain in the Royal Navy.'
Velasquez was about to rise and bow, but Ramage gestured for him to remain seated: time was getting short, with all the prisoners out of the Jocasta.
'Captain Velasquez, all your men will soon be on board the Santa Barbara, along with the brig's original crew and Captain Lopez - oh yes, and the nephew of the Captain-General. There are forty-one of your men, wounded in the fighting. And here -' he took a piece of folded paper from his pocket '- are the names of the twenty- three killed. One of the wounded identified them. The garrisons of the two forts are also on board.'
'You mean Castillo San Antonio and El Pilar?' Velasquez asked incredulously.
'Yes. You heard two explosions?'
'My God, yes! '
'You'll see what caused them when you sail back.'
'Sail back?' Velasquez asked suspiciously.
'Back into Santa Cruz. You will be taken over to the Santa Barbara in a few minutes and you will allow the remaining English Marines on board to depart in the boat that takes you over. Then you will sail the Santa Barbara back into port.'
'You mean I will be free?'
'Yes - you and all the prisoners I have taken, providing you give your word that you will not prevent my Marines leaving. I should warn you that the Calypso - she was the frigate that came alongside you in Santa Cruz - is close by, so that between us we can sink the Santa Barbara in a matter of moments.'
'You have my word, ' Velasquez said, and Ramage knew he meant it. 'You have my word, ' he repeated bitterly, 'although God knows that from now on my own people will place little value on it.'
Ramage looked puzzled, and Velasquez held his hands out, palms upwards. 'As soon as the Captain-General hears of this, I shall be put under arrest. There was not even a pistol loaded when you boarded us.'
'At least you are still alive! ' Ramage exclaimed, surprised and vaguely irritated by the sympathy he was beginning to feel for the Spaniard.
'I may live to regret that, ' Velasquez said bitterly. Then he glanced up at Ramage. 'Have you captured any of the English mutineers who originally brought in this ship? Many have sailed in neutral ships.'
'Some. In time we'll capture most of them.'
'There was one man, one of their leaders. He could handle the ship well. He brought her round from La Guaira - with a Spanish guard, of course. I remember him well. His name - for the moment I cannot remember it.'
'Summers?'
'Ah, that was it. You know him?'
'He was captured a few weeks ago and court-martialled.'
'And?'
'And he was hanged.'
'He deserved it, ' Velasquez said quietly. 'He brought us a frigate, but he was evil. He boasted that he planned the entire mutiny and was responsible for killing all the officers. I think he was the most evil man I ever met. It was wrong for Spain to benefit from the activities of such men. We needed the ship, but mutiny knows no frontiers.'
Ramage suddenly felt a kinship with Velasquez; the kinship of men who faced the responsibilities of command. He stood up and held out his hand.
'I have your word about my Marines?'
'You have.' Velasquez shook hands. 'And thank you for freeing us. I am in your debt. Now you return to report to your Admiral?'
'Yes, ' Ramage said, thinking of the letters in the drawer.
'What about the other English frigate, the one which came a month ago?'
'Her captain was making a reconnaissance, ' Ramage said. 'We needed to know if we could cut out La Perla.'
'And he reported that you could?' Velasquez asked incredulously. 'Caramba! He must be a brave man! And you, Captain Ramage, you have done the impossible.'
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
By sunrise the Jocasta was running westward under studding sails with a stiff north-east wind. To the south a series of mountain peaks stretched into the distance along the coast of the Main, fading purple like old bruises, while ahead, fine on the starboard bow, was Isla de Margarita, its high mountains making it seem as if the island had been formed by a giant wrenching off a handful of the mainland and tossing it into the sea a dozen miles from the coast. There were two small islands in the channel between, Coche and Cabagua.
Daylight had been a melancholy time on board the frigate because Ramage had to conduct a funeral service for the Iwenty-three Spaniards and then for the five men from the Calypso who had been killed while boarding the Jocasta. Yet the ship's company had soon cheered up after the last body, sewn into a hammock and with
