trouble Ramage.
'Your Excellency,' Ramage said quietly, 'yesterday you surrendered this island to me. We signed all the necessary documents. Since then I have continued to address you as 'Your Excellency'; you have been treated as though you were the Governor . . .'
Would he need to say more? Van Someren was quick to answer: 'But I am the Governor!'
'Forgive me,' Ramage said almost dreamily, 'how can you, a Dutch subject, a citizen of the Batavian Republic, be the Governor of an island which, since yesterday afternoon, belonged to Britain?'
Van Someren was silent for several seconds and Ramage heard two or three of the lieutenants shuffle their feet as they realized the significance of what their captain had said but were far from sure what van Someren was going to do.
'Again, I must apologize,' the Dutchman said. 'You are of course quite correct. You are, I suppose, the new governor - and naval and military commander.'
'More important for the moment,' Ramage said dryly, 'I am your guest for dinner, and I'm sure we all have a good appetite.'
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Lieutenant Rennick locked at the map yet again. To the trained eye of a Marine officer, the island of Curasao looked like a femur, or whatever the big thigh bone was called, long and narrow, thinner in the middle. More important than the shape, though, the Governor had sent out a mounted night patrol, at Captain Ramage's request, to find out exactly where the rebels were. The Governor had been sure they'd be split into three groups, one advancing on Amsterdam by the south coast, another along the road running the length of the island like a spine, and a third skirting the north coast - the island was less than seven miles wide where Amsterdam was built In fact, though, the patrol had reported back just before the Calypso's officers left Government House at two o'clock in the morning that the rebels were in no sort of formation; they were camped together for the night (and according to local people had spent the previous one there, too) at a place between Willebrordus, on the south coast near Bullen Bay, and the village of Daniel, on the centre road. This put them ten miles from Amsterdam, which with trained troops would have been dangerously dose, but because the rebels were a collection of undisciplined privateersmen, wastrels and troublemakers, the captain had suggested that for the rest of the night a dozen Dutch soldiers with a couple of horses for messengers should be stationed as sentries five miles from Amsterdam along the south coast, another dozen along the centre road level with them, and a third group on the north coast. That ruled out any surprise attack on the port for the rest of the night; a sentry on a horse galloping across this flat country would take very little time to reach Otrabanda.
All this, Rennick reflected, was not the way the Marines had been taught to conduct their business during their brief training at Chatham, but Mr Ramage obviously had some ideas of his own. But Rennick knew that his own father, now a lieutenant - colonel in the 1st Dragoons, would be startled to hear some of Mr Ramage's views. Rennick grinned to himself: his father's ideas about warfare had not changed from the principles drummed into him by his own father, who had also served in the 1st In fact there had been three generations of Rennicks in the 1st (dating from the day it was first formed in 1683) and his father had expected him to be the fourth. Old Colonel Rennick was appalled (almost apoplectic, in fact) when his son had announced he wanted to go to sea; indeed, he had slammed down his brandy glass so hard that it broke, whereupon his wife had hysterics because it was one of a dozen inherited from her grandfather.
In his ignorance the would - be sailor did not know that eighteen years of age was much too late to begin a naval career, but a chance meeting with another young blood who had made the same mistake put him on to the Marines. His father, finally accepting that his son was lost to the 1st Dragoons (thus saving himself several hundred pounds for a subaltern's commission, with hundreds more for later promotions, since advancement depended on guineas, not glory), mentioned casually that George Villiers, the Member of Parliament for Warwick (the county in which the Rennicks were considerable landowners) was a friend of his.
Father and son had then paid a visit to the Honourable George Villiers at his town house in Portman Square, and there the man who Was also Paymaster of the Marines (as well as being the youngest brother of the Earl of Clarendon) seemed glad to see Colonel Rennick and sympathetic towards his son's wish to be a sea soldier. Anyway, a week later a messenger had brought Colonel Rennick an official letter from the Honourable George, and a month later Second Lieutenant Rennick, footsore, shoulders bruised from musketry drill, wrist aching from sword drill, heels blistered from marching, brain weary from (admittedly cursory) lessons in tactics, back weary from drill at the great guns, went to bed at night and if he dreamed it was of commanding his own detachment of Marines in a ship of war.
Now, four years later, it had happened: he commanded his own Marine company of one sergeant, two corporals and forty privates; more important, he commanded them in a frigate which was in turn commanded by the Navy's most brilliant young captain. Others might disagree - if they did you could probably put it down to jealousy - but Captain Ramage had two rare abilities, and you needed to serve with him and to share in the planning and the operations fully to appreciate them.
The two abilities were in many ways contradictory. Rennick had already discovered that the captain was contemptuous of gamblers - tooth me crazy fellows who wagered small fortunes at the London gambling tables and the captains who just shut their eyes and took their ships into action hoping for the best Yet Rennick had seen on several occasions that no man was a better gambler than the captain: he would see what ought - or had - to be done, then he would work out the odds, quite cold-bloodedly.
He did not put it into as many words, of course, but in the convoy action off Diamond Rock, for instance, and cutting out the Jocasta at Santa Cruz, the odds were (on paper) so much against him that no sane man would accept them. But Captain Ramage did and, Rennick realized later, it was because the captain read figures on paper differently from most people. There were times when he calculated that one of his own men was worth, say, two Frenchmen or three Spaniards. At other times he doubled those figures. In the Jocasta business he must have quadrupled them! Yet he knew his men; he never asked for more than they could give (it had taken Rennick a long time to realize that), and he had this ability to lead the men so that they gave it. Rennick still shivered when he thought of how his Marines had captured and blown up the castles at Santa Cruz: it had seemed impossible in prospect, but in retrospect it seemed easy. Which meant, of course, that Mr Ramage had this knack of seeing a problem simultaneously in prospect and, it seemed, in retrospect The second ability, of course, was that he took a decision apparently without a moment's doubt, although he was as likely to refuse a particular operation because the odds were wrong as he was to attempt something else. Nor did he give a damn what anyone thought of him; that was what it all meant in the end. He received his orders, did what he thought was right, and damned the consequences. So far the Admiralty and the various admirals had been forced to congratulate him (Rennick gathered much of this from people like Southwick), but if Captain the Lord Ramage ever put a foot wrong then they'd crucify him. They'd put him on the beach on half pay and leave the crabs to chew his uniform and boots (and try to forget the dispatches they'd been only too pleased at the time to print in the Gazette). Indeed, Rennick's own father had written a long letter to this effect quite recently - after the Diamond Rock convoy affair, although before Santa Cruz - warning him that he had reaped enough glory and should at once get transferred to another ship, one commanded by a more conservative captain. The feeling in London, the old Colonel wrote, was that Captain Ramage's luck had held for several years but was bound to change. To be fair, he also mentioned a story from Mr Villiers that the King had been heard to tell the First Lord that had Captain Ramage not had a title in his own right he should have received a knighthood for Diamond Rock and a baronetcy for Santa Cruz, and that the First Lord's reactions had been mixed. So, the Colonel had written: 'Your Captain stands well with the King, but do not forget that Their Lordships are the ones who give the orders and read the reports and pass dispatches for publication in the LondonGazette.' For all that, Curacao looked like a femur, and he could learn nothing more from the map. The Dutch for saint was sint, a bay was a baai, and a point was punda. That much he had learned from the map, but it seemed little more than a chart with roads and villages marked on it. He folded it and left the gunroom to see the captain.
The captain's steward, Silkin, who was blessed with the ability to move without noise or effort, was just clearing away the breakfast table and the captain seemed in a cheerful mood. This, Rennick knew well enough, was lucky, until at least an hour after breakfast the captain often seemed to walk around in the shadow of his own Mack stormcloud.
'Ah, Rennick; you have the plans for the Battle of Amsterdam?'
The Marine lieutenant grinned and put the map on the desk. 'My only plan, sir - suggestion, rather - is that we take good care not to fight for this side of the city.'
To Rennick's surprise, Ramage nodded in agreement. That was my impression, but I'm no soldier. Risk of them turning our flank?'
Rennick nodded. 'We could start off holding the Punda side of the channel, sir - in fact the channel forms a moat in front - but it runs into the lake, Schottegat. We haven't nearly enough men to form a line from the other side of the lake - the far side from here - to the north coast of the island. The rebels could pour through there and come round to attack the eastern side of Amsterdam, Punda, taking us in the rear.'
'Soldiers always design the defences of ports as though they'll only ever be attacked from seaward,' Ramage commented sourly. 'English Harbour, Cartagena, Havana, San Juan in Puerto Rico, Fort Royal in Martinique . . .' They should leave it to the Marines, sir.' 'Let them lay bricks, instead of dropping them, eh? Well, what do you suggest?'
The only way we can't be outflanked or taken in the rear, sir, is to forget the Punda side altogether, simply abandon it, and form a line facing west on the Otrabanda side, with the sea on our left, the channel behind us, and Schottegat, or whatever that lake is called, on our right If we have to retreat we can get back on board the Calypso.' 'We can leave boats ready for us along the Otrabanda quay, you mean. Even shift the privateers alongside.'
Rennick nodded. 'We could evacuate the Governor and his family, and a hundred or so other people.' Even as he spoke he realized that the captain was shaking his head. Rennick was not surprised; the place was indefensible, a fact which, added to their being heavily outnumbered, meant they were better off staying in the Calypso. Sailors always got into trouble the moment they set foot on land . . .
'I wasn't thinking of defending Amsterdam, Mr Rennick.' The captain was speaking quietly, and Rennick was relieved to hear the news. It confirmed his own view that it was an impossible task with their force - a hundred Dutchmen, forty Marines and at most a hundred and fifty seamen. Then he realized that there had been a faint emphasis on one of the words which completely changed the meaning of the whole sentence.
'As you quite rightly point out, Mr Rennick, we can't defend Amsterdam, and even if we could - if we had enough men - I'm not sure that would be the right thing to do. I think we should take your Marines and what seamen we can spare, and attack these rebels. Take them by surprise, if possible. And well leave the Dutch troops where they are, here in Amsterdam, unless their officers speak English.' 'But sir, there are five hundred rebels and privateersmen...'
'And a hundred and fifty or so of us.'
'Exactly, sir, so - '
'You're not suggesting that rebels and privateersmen are better trained than our seamen and Marines?'
'Well, no, sir.' Rennick was wary. All too often the captain's questions - and - answers ended up with some conclusion he could not refute, but for the moment he
