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.'
