which was written 'Master'.
The Jason's master was, Ramage noted in amusement, the opposite to Southwick in just about every way: he was tall, thin to the point of being cadaverous, completely bald - his head seemed to be polished like the ivory top of a Malacca cane - and his nose was not just long but tilted up, as though something should be hung on it.
'If you're the master, tell me your name and the date of your warrant,' Ramage said wearily, and then felt a finger poking into his side. He looked up to find Southwick signalling that he wanted to whisper something
'I know this fellow,' the master whispered. 'A good man.'
Ramage looked at the man questioningly. 'Well?'
'Price, sir. Warrant dated August 1793.'
'Very well, go with Southwick - I believe you know him. Take your hat, the sun's still bright.'
As Price collected his hat and then followed Southwick out of the gunroom, Ramage said impatiently: 'All right, Mr Rennick, winkle out the rest of 'em - the second lieutenant, surgeon and purser, I believe.' He raised his voice, so that they could all hear. 'I'm getting tired of all this play-acting. None of you seem to realize you're probably going to spend the next few weeks in irons.'
The first lieutenant's head jerked up. 'But sir!'
'But sir, whatl' Ramage demanded, hoping to provoke him into revealing some details. 'Do I need to remind you of the Articles of War? Numbers 12, 13, 14, 15 and 16 come immediately to mind, but no doubt 19, 20 and 22 could apply. You'll recall that most of them end up with the phrase 'shall suffer death'.'
'But. . . but well, it's not like that, sir,' Ridley wailed.
'What is it like, then?'
'Oh, I can't say!' the man said and, collapsing on the table with his arms clasped over his head, he burst into uncontrolled tears.
Ramage stood up, feeling completely helpless, and said formally to Rennick: 'All these officers are under arrest and confined to the gunroom.'
'The captain, sir?'
Ramage tried to look stern, although he felt more sympathy for the sobbing Ridley than it would have been proper to admit. 'I'll decide about him later, after I've had a chance to talk with him.'
CHAPTER TEN
Back on board the Calypso, with the Jason abeam as the two ships beat back towards the convoy, Ramage tried to make up his mind. There was a choice: although he had by no means finished questioning the Jason's officers and ship's company, he was still just near enough to take the Jason back to Barbados and hand over the whole wretched and puzzling business to Admiral Tewtin. Or he could keep the Jason with him, carry on with the convoy, and hope to get it all settled in England.
If there were six reasons why he should do one thing, there were half a dozen why he should do the other - and that was only choosing between returning to Barbados or going on to England.
There were plenty of variations lurking around to distract him. He could escort the Jason back to Barbados with the Calypso, leaving La Robuste and L'Espoir to carry on with the convoy and arranging a rendezvous for, say, a week's time. (But what hope was there of clearing up this business in a week? Tewtin would want dozens of depositions: Shirley, if he had any sense, would want even more. Very well, forget that choice.)
What about sending the Jason back to Barbados with, say, La Robuste, giving her captain a written report for Rear-Admiral Tewtin? How the devil could he describe all this in a written report that was not as long as the Regulations and Instructions, the largest volume a King's ship carried? And what yarn was Shirley (and his officers, whatever their role was) likely to tell, if Ramage and the Calypsos were out of sight and sound, even if not out of mind? Shirley could have the Calypso raking the Jason, and those officers of his would probably back him up, judging from the story Southwick brought back after his talk with the Jason's master.
Yet if he was honest, his main concern was that the Jason business was so unusual and complex that Rear-Admiral Tewtin was not the man to deal with it: this was something for Their Lordships at the Admiralty, and the Judge Advocate's department.
And he was involved in it only because he - well, first he had got married, then he and Sarah had had to escape from Bonaparte, and all that had led to him crossing the Atlantic to Devil's Island, to rescue Jean-Jacques, the Count of Rennes. In turn he had brought two French prizes into Barbados . . . and been stuck with the job of escorting this convoy back to England. But why - why, why - had the Jason chosen to interfere with his convoy? Why could she not have gone on to Britain, where her orders sent her?
He answered the Marine sentry's call and Southwick came into the cabin. Ramage waved him to a chair, and the master threw his hat on to the settee.
'I've been reading the Articles of War again, sir.'
'They don't help,' Ramage said, 'unless you want to get into more of a muddle.'
'But there must be something we can do, sir.'
'There isn't,' Ramage said shortly. 'Not so long ago, while I was escaping from the French at Brest, none of you could do anything about a drunken captain sent to the Calypso. Their Lordships in their wisdom have drawn up the Articles of War on the assumption that a captain can do no wrong.'
'A surgeon can have him replaced on medical grounds,' Southwick offered hopefully but without much conviction.
'Oh yes. What do you suggest Bowen diagnoses in Captain Shirley's case? That the black coat proves he has a poor tailor? That a bulge in his right shoe shows he has a bunion? The fellow doesn't drink, doesn't smoke (or even chew tobacco in secret), he doesn't swear or keep a mistress on board. He seems identical with dozens of other post-captains, except perhaps he reads his Bible more frequently.'
'Those officers,' Southwick said. 'Apart from Price . . .'
'Apart from the master they seem a weak-kneed crowd,' Ramage said. 'I wouldn't want to go into action with them, especially Ridley, who is a fool as well. But apart from keeping their mouths tight shut, they haven't done anything to harm us. Indeed, keeping their mouths shut isn't harming us; it's just puzzling.'
'It's not my place to say this, sir, and I'm presuming on the years -'
'Oh, for God's sake,' Ramage said impatiently, 'out with it!'
'Well, sir, are you sure of your ground in putting Captain Shirley under an arrest? You were just saying about the Articles of War.'
'What gave you the impression that Captain Shirley is under an arrest?' Ramage asked innocently. 'I've no grounds for arresting him. No authority, rather. I may have, but I can't find any backing in the Articles of War or the Admiralty Instructions.'
Southwick frowned, the wrinkles on his brow like a much folded leather pouch. 'But when you spoke to him in his cabin and left Wagstaffe there, I thought you said ...'
'I know you did, and so did Aitken and so did Wagstaffe. More important, so did Captain Shirley. You all expected me to arrest him - and so you heard words I didn't actually say.'
Southwick was by now grinning broadly. 'Well, as long as Captain Shirley and that sorry collection of commission and warrant officers accepted it, and continue to do so until we reach Plymouth, we'll have no complaint.'
'No, we just have to hope for an understanding port admiral at Plymouth. Once we have the convoy safely dispersed, everything should be all right.'
'But if he talks to the wrong people in Plymouth?' Southwick asked.
'Half-pay for my officers, if they are lucky.'
'But what about you, sir?'
'Best for you not to think about it.'
Southwick shook his head and picked up his hat. 'You said the Jason's station is a cable off our larboard beam?'
'She'd better stay a cable to leeward of us, unless she gets a signal to the contrary. Wagstaffe understands.'
'Yes, I had a word with him before he went across. It was a good idea putting him in command. It'd be risky with Aitken.'
'Yes, Aitken is too near being made post: if there's trouble, it could count against him.'
'If there's trouble it'll count against you,' Southwick said gloomily.
Ramage shrugged his shoulders. 'If I am dismissed the Service, I've plenty to keep me occupied, but it's Aitken's whole life. Though thanks to prize money, I doubt if he depends on his pay.'
'Pay! Thanks to you no one in the Calypso now depends on his pay, even allowing for the villainy of the prize agents.'
Ramage grinned at Southwick's forthright statement. 'Still, I expect Aitken would like to get his flag eventually, so that when he retires to his estate in the Highlands, it'll be as Rear-Admiral Aitken. Perhaps even Vice-Admiral, with a knighthood.'
'Could be,' Southwick agreed. 'He would if it just depended on merit. This stepping into dead men's shoes is no good. Promotion by seniority is just an insurance policy for the dullards. If you live long enough you're bound to end up the most senior admiral in the Navy.'
'Providing you make that first jump on to the Post List,' Ramage pointed out. 'Unless he is a post-captain, he doesn't even put a foot on the bottom rung ...'
'That's understood, sir. Don't forget he's already refused one chance. Admittedly that was because he reckoned he wasn't ready, and would learn a lot more by staying with you.'
'Yes, but now he's learned all he can from me. He's ready for the Post List, and I don't want anything like this -' he gestured in the direction of the Jason, '- getting in the way. Now, leave me to write up my journal. Between now and the time we reach the Chops of the Channel, I have to write a full report on all this business ...'
'Aye, and if you'll allow me to stick an oar in, sir, you'd be well advised to get signed reports from the Calypso's officers, and perhaps some of the senior petty officers.'
'You are gloomy,' Ramage commented.
'I just wonder who this Captain Shirley has for friends. As I see it, his friends are going to be our enemies, if all this business comes to trial.'
