'Don't be stupid: you persuaded the rest of your ship's company to follow you.'
'Oh no!' the man exclaimed. 'No, they didn't. At least, a few did but the rest said it was suicide. Why - they ran aft and surrendered the ship again just as you were going to open fire!'
'Oh, so it wasn't you surrendering?'
'No, sir,' the man said, perspiring freely and wiping his forehead with his hand. 'No, not me.'
'Why not? Didn't you agree with them surrendering?'
'I was too scared,' the man admitted. 'I thought you were going to rake us again - and I was afraid of being killed.'
Well, Ramage thought, at least you are an honest man. He turned and told Aitken in English to pass the word to Rennick to have a file of half a dozen Marines line up on the gangway facing the fat man.
It took several minutes and during that time Ramage did not speak a word. The fat man, eyes bulging, watched every move round him. Finally the file of Marines were ready and Sergeant Ferris saluted Ramage smartly. 'The men you requested all fallen in and ready, sir.'
'Very well, sergeant,' Ramage said formally, returning the salute.
By now there was almost complete silence on deck: seamen had stopped and were watching the fat man; Aitken and Southwick stood to one side of Ramage and Sergeant Ferris stood beside the Marines.
Ramage turned again to the Frenchman, who was perspiring so heavily he looked as though he was melting.
'What you were doing,' Ramage said deliberately, 'was fomenting a mutiny. Your captain - the lieutenant who had taken over command - had surrendered. In other words he had given you orders to cease fighting. But later you - whoever you are - gave new orders to the men: you told them to drive off the English, to whom your new captain had surrendered.
'Death!' Ramage suddenly thundered at the man, who immediately fainted in an untidy heap.
The two Marines behind him put their muskets down on the deck and dragged him to his feet, letting go of him as soon as he could stand unaided.
Ramage said: 'Death! That is what I could order, and there -' he pointed to the Marines, '- are the men of a firing squad. Yes, death is what I could order for you. And I may yet. For the time being you will be taken below and put in irons.'
As soon as the man had been taken away, Southwick said: 'I thought you meant it! It would have been the first firing squad you've ever assembled.'
'The fat man thought I meant it, too,' Ramage said. 'I've never seen anyone faint like that before!'
Ramage waited until the two cutters had finished ferrying the prisoners ashore and as soon as they turned back towards the Calypso with the jolly-boat he said: 'Pass the word for the carpenter, Mr Southwick: we'll go over and inspect Le Tigre. I want to see what repairs have to be done to make her seaworthy.'
The three men went across in the jolly-boat to find Hill ready to greet them.
'I expect I gave you a few minutes of worry,' Ramage said to Hill. The third lieutenant grinned.
'You did, sir: I had a feeling that you were serious.'
'I was,' Ramage admitted, 'but I thought the Frenchman's nerve would fail first.'
Ramage led the way below. Aft the captain's day cabin, dining cabin and bed place were no longer recognizable: the bulkheads had been smashed in along with the sternlights: there was no sign that windows had ever been fitted in the transom. The grapeshot, after smashing in the cabins, had swept forward to pepper the mizenmast and rip at the carriages of the aftermost guns.
On deck the mainyard had been hit by three shot which had, fortunately, not split the spar. The original damage which had caused the French to lower the spar down on to the deck comprised a long shake, or split, in the middle which the French had already begun to fish by fixing battens round it, like long splints.
The carpenter inspected the spar with South wick, and then reported to Ramage: 'A day's work to repair it and the foreyard and sway them up again, sir.'
'Very well,' Ramage said. 'Have as many men as you want. What about the damage below?'
The carpenter shrugged his shoulders. 'We can't do anything about the damage from our broadsides, sir: that's a dockyard job. I'll just check the steering and the foot of the mizenmast, and sound the well. But that's all I can do.'
'A day, eh? So we can get the ship under way in two days.'
'Unless I find the steering damaged, sir, or something unexpected.'
'Good. All I want is to get her under way; she need not be in fighting trim, but she must sail.'
He then sent for Hill, and talking to him from amid the wreckage of the captain's cabin he said: 'You are going to be the prize-master, with Orsini as your second- in-command. From now on you will live on board and start getting the ship ready for sea. I'll send you twenty-five men, and as soon as you can you'll have the rigging fitted and the mainyard and foreyard crossed.'
'Aye aye, and thank you, sir,' Hill said. 'Where do I make for?'
'Naples. You'll sail in company with the Calypso, but get what charts you might need from Southwick and copy them: we might be separated by bad weather.'
Having given his orders, Ramage took the carpenter back to the Calypso to collect the tools he needed and the carpenter's mates. Ramage told Aitken to choose twenty-five men to go across and put themselves under Hill's command. 'There should be plenty of provisions and water,' he said, 'but pass the word to Hill to check them.'
Fishing the two yards and plugging the worst shot holes took the full day that the carpenter had estimated, but in the meantime Hill's men had lowered the topgallant and foresails and overhauled them, before sending them up again. Hill had the maincourse spread out over the deck and overhauled, several patches being stitched in where there was chafe. Finally, the two yards were hoisted up and fitted in place.
Later that afternoon Jackson and Stafford were standing on the Calypso's fo'c'sle with Rossi and Gilbert. The sun was still high, there was little more than a gentle breeze from the south-west -giving the two ships a lee from Capraia at last- and the clouds were rounded into fantastic shapes, reminding Jackson of Trade wind clouds and making him nostalgic for the West Indies.
'Yer know,' Stafford said, 'I can't see 'ow all those prisoners from the two frigates are going to survive on that island. There can't be much more food than the local people need . . .'
'I can guess who is going to go without,' Jackson commented.
'Yus, so can I, but it don't seem fair.'
Jackson shrugged his shoulders. 'It wouldn't be fair to have 350 French prisoners on board us, either. They'd outnumber us by a hundred or so, and with a few chaps like that fat man they'd soon try to take the ship. Probably succeed, too: sheer weight of numbers.'
'All right, all right. I'm persuaded Jacko,' Stafford said. 'But what d'you think, Gilbert?'
'I think Mr Ramage was right. It wouldn't matter to me if Capraia was a desert island with no water: I wouldn't keep those men on board as prisoners. They'd turn on us and cut our throats.'
'What's Mr Ramage going to do with the fat man?' Stafford asked Jackson.
'How should I know? If it was up to me I'd throw him over the side, but I suppose he'll be brought to trial, or something.'
'I thought I'd fall down laughing when he fainted,' Stafford said. 'I quite believed Mr Ramage when he said 'Death!' - it's about (he only French word I understand. I expected the Marines to shoot him there and then.'
'So did I,' Gilbert admitted, 'and it's a pity they didn't. That man is evil.'
'Well, he's down below in irons now,' Jackson said.
'Yus, that's all very well, but he could have been the death of Mr Hill and the Marines. Mr Ramage was all ready to rake 'em again!'
'I wonder,' Jackson said. 'He wanted the fat man to think so, and the only way to do that was to sail across his stern. But don't you reckon he was bluffing?'
'There's no way of telling,' Rossi said. 'If he was bluffing, well, it worked, and that's all that matters.'
'Gave Mr Hill a bad five minutes, though.'
'Gave everyone a bad five minutes,' Jackson said, 'including Mr Ramage. If his bluff hadn't worked, he'd have had to open fire, and can you imagine how he'd have felt, firing on his own men?'
'Not half as bad as the men,' Stafford said ironically. 'But you're probably right, Jacko; he was bluffing, and he guessed right that the fat man's nerve wouldn't hold out.'
'It wasn't Mr Ramage's first bit of bluff today,' Gilbert pointed out. 'That was bluff when he steered across the bow of that ship of the line.'
Jackson shook his head.
'I don't agree with you there, Gilbert. No one knew the Frenchman would turn away, and I'm damned sure Mr Ramage wasn't going to. It's just that the French captain lost his nerve.'
'Exactly!' exclaimed Gilbert, showing excitement for the first time that Jackson could remember. 'The French captain's nerve broke before Mr Ramage's, just as the fat man's did. That's where Mr Ramage is so clever, he knows the French so well. He knows exactly when they will break.'
Jackson shook his head again, only this time it was because of near incredulity. 'I believe you are right, Gilbert. I never thought of it like that but, as you say, it's the second time today.'
Gilbert nodded contentedly. 'Yes, to understand Mr Ramage's mind, you have to think like a Frenchman.'
'He's right, Jacko,' Rossi said. 'He understands the French mind. The Italian, too: you remember all the tricks he played when we've been in Italy.'
'Well, he speaks Italian and French: they're very much alike, and perhaps speaking the language gives you an insight into the way they think.'
'Try and think of another explanation,' Stafford said. 'There isn't one. Not unless you want to believe in magic and voodoo.'
'I tell you someone else like Mr Ramage,' Gilbert said, 'and that's Mr Orsini.'
'You're right!' Jackson exclaimed. 'He would have stayed almost alongside that frigate this morning if I hadn't steered us away without orders. I thought then he was just excited and forgot to get us out of range, but I think you're right; he knew Mr Ramage was bluffing.'
'He's a bright young lad, that's for sure,' Stafford said. 'It's a pity the Marcheeza can't see him.'
'Marchesa,' said Jackson. 'She's dead by now,' he added lugubriously. 'Boney's men will have murdered her.'
'I don't see why,' Stafford said.
'Don't be stupid!' Rossi said explosively. 'You don't think Bonaparte would let her go back to Volterra, do you? Why, if she suddenly arrived just about everyone
