Governor Ramage R. N. (42 page)

“I doubt it. Depends how quick-witted he is.”

“
Can
he withdraw the charges just like that? I mean, would the court allow it?”

Ramage shrugged his shoulders. “He can certainly withdraw the charges, but I can't say for certain that the court would agree. After all, the court is simply a group of captains.”

“You're taking a devilish risk, Ramage. After all, our evidence will come after the prosecution's case. Suppose he has time to withdraw the charges, and the court agrees? You still face another trial on the charge of losing the
Triton.
Why take such a chance on the
Peacock
affair? Why let Goddard bring up the main cowardice charges? Why not let him know we're alive, so that he drops the
Peacock
affair and goes for you on the loss of the
Triton
—and perhaps
‘running away cowardly'
? After all, you can fight him on both those charges without taking any risk on Goddard or what the court might decide?”

Southwick was nodding his head in agreement with Yorke. “I have to take the chance,” Ramage said flatly. “It's the only way of ending this vendetta. If I don't, it'll drag on for years. Anyway, he'd get me on losing the
Triton.
Maybe I'd dodge the noose, but I'd be finished in the Service.”

“You'd be finished even if the court found you not guilty,” Southwick said as if thinking aloud.

“Would you?” Yorke asked sharply.

“Yes. Don't forget there are never enough ships to go round. That means no one gets a command if there's the slightest doubt about him.”

“And favouritism,” Southwick murmured.

“True enough. If you're out of favour with the local admiral—or the Admiralty—you'll be left to rot on half pay for the rest of your life.”

“I still think you're mad,” Yorke said doggedly. “You're staking everything—including your life—on slipping me and St Brieuc into court and getting one or both of us giving evidence before Goddard has time to withdraw the charges. What's to stop him withdrawing the charges after we've started giving evidence? Or even after we've both told everything we know? Have you thought of that?”

Ramage nodded wearily. “Yes, I've thought about it until my head spins.” Yorke was trying to be helpful, and he deserved an explanation; but Ramage already knew he was taking an enormous risk, and having decided to take it he didn't want to discuss it because further talk only mirrored and enlarged his fears.

“I'm counting on several things. The main one is the natural curiosity of the court. By the time you and St Brieuc arrive, all the prosecution evidence will have been given on the assumption that you are both dead. I'm hoping that whatever Goddard tries, the court will want to hear what you have to say. It may lead to them deciding against allowing Goddard to withdraw the charges, and that means the court is bound to find me not guilty.

“Almost as important,” Ramage continued, “are the minutes of the trial. Don't forget that as far as the Admiralty is concerned, all that happens in a trial is what is recorded in the minutes. Even if the charges are withdrawn, the minutes have to go to the Admiralty. With a little luck, those minutes might say enough.”

“If only we knew who St Brieuc really is,” Yorke mused. “I

wonder if there's any need for secrecy now … The point is, if he's really influential, would Goddard be forced to carry on? Be too frightened—or too flustered—to withdraw the charges?”

“I've thought of that, too. All I know is that Goddard is scared of him.”

Southwick coughed politely. “Supposing the gentleman is important, sir. Suppose the Admiral does withdraw the charges. Would the French gentleman be sufficiently important to write to the Admiralty—or the Commander-in-Chief—and tell them what he knows?”

Both Yorke and Ramage stared at the Master.

“He might be!” Yorke exclaimed.

“What matters,” Ramage said, “is whether or not Goddard—and the court—
thinks
he is! Well, you've earned your tot for today, Mr Southwick!”

But a moment later Yorke was again looking gloomy.

“It's still a fantastic risk, Ramage. Listen, why don't you take advantage of what Southwick's just suggested, only modify it. First, let it be known that St Brieuc and I are still alive, so that the
Peacock
cowardice charges are dropped. Let Goddard bring up a charge over the loss of the
Triton.
And ask St Brieuc to write a report for the Admiralty?”

Ramage shook his head. “For a start, anything St Brieuc wrote would then seem vindictive: in effect he'd be denying charges which Goddard hasn't made …”

“But he has—dammit, you have the wording in front of you!”

“—which Goddard hasn't made
in court.
Until they're made in court they don't exist, at least, not in this sense. All St Brieuc could write is that Lieutenant Ramage didn't behave in a cowardly fashion over the
Peacock
attack, and My Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty would reply, ‘Who the devil said he did?'”

“That sounds likely enough,” Yorke admitted. “It's just that it's almost as though you're staking everything on the turn of a card.”

“I am,” Ramage said. “That's what I've been trying to tell you. If I can't completely smash Goddard on the
Peacock
charges, I'm finished. He'll keep hammering away at me. If not this week, then next. If not this year, then in a couple of years' time. Don't forget, this isn't the first time he's tried.”

“We'll all do our best,” Yorke said soberly. “We'll keep out of sight in
La Perla,
even though she's like an oven in this sun.”

Ramage nodded gratefully. “I'll try and get the trial brought on quickly. I don't think there'll be much delay.”

After Yorke and Southwick had gone, Ramage went through the rest of the documents left by the deputy judge advocate. The second in the pile was from the man himself, a routine letter to the prisoner.

“Sir Pilcher Skinner, Vice-Admiral of the Blue and Commander-in-Chief of His Majesty's Ships and Vessels employed at or about to be employed upon the Jamaica Station, having directed a court martial to be held on you for cowardice in action, tomorrow morning at half past eight o'clock on board His Majesty's ship
Arrogant.
I am to acquaint you therewith, and enclose for your information Rear-Admiral Goddard's complaints against you.

“You are therefore desired to prepare yourself for the same, and if you have any persons to appear as witnesses in your behalf, you will send me a list of their names that they may be duly and speedily warned to attend the said court martial.”

A corresponding letter would have been sent to the Rear-Admiral by the deputy judge advocate asking for the list of prosecution witnesses Goddard wanted to call “in support of the charges.”

Half past eight o'clock tomorrow morning!
Ramage snatched up the pen and quickly scribbled a letter to the deputy judge advocate saying he wished to call the former Master of the
Triton,
Edward Southwick, and the master's mate, George Appleby. He was just going to sign it when he decided to include Jackson and Stafford. He would not call them, in fact, but it would give them a day or two on board another ship, and they deserved a change.

He added a postscript: “In view of the fact that I have been notified that the trial starts in sixteen hours' time this is my first list of witnesses: a second list will follow later.”

He called the corporal, sent off the letter, and was told he was being transferred to the
Lion
in half an hour. Before that the corporal had to hand over responsibility for his prisoner to the
Lion
's Marine Lieutenant, who would act as provost marshal. “‘E'll be glad o' the four bob a day,” the corporal said. “‘E's got four nippers.”

A good thing some deserving soul was gaining by his arrest, Ramage thought sourly, as he wrote a quick note to Southwick.

“My trial fixed for half past eight tomorrow morning on board the
Arrogant.
Assume haste is due to the fact captains now available have to sail soon. I have asked for you, Appleby, Jackson and Stafford as witnesses. Please bring my journal, your log, the
Triton
's muster book,
La Perla
's log, particularly for the period under my command. Also bring with you personally a dozen circular samples of the ballast. Ask our friends to come on board the
Arrogant
at exactly half past ten tomorrow morning. They should insist on seeing me and if necessary send in visiting cards.”

Early that evening Ramage was taken out to the
Lion.
Captain Croucher, presumably on orders from the Admiral, had given instructions to the Lieutenant of Marines acting as provost marshal to take a large escort which would have been more suitable for bringing a wild elephant on board.

He had been led from his room by the corporal, whose sheepish manner showed his own view, to find the Lieutenant with a dozen Marines. He read Ramage his warrant in a loud voice, with a crowd of gaping seamen for an audience.

Amid much stamping of feet, thumping of muskets and clouds of pipeclay they had marched to the jetty, where the
Lion
's yawl waited. Her masts were not stepped, so Goddard intended that she should be rowed through the anchored ships. No one was to be deprived of the sight of Lieutenant Lord Ramage sitting in the stern sheets, with the citizens of Kingston protected from robbery, rape or arson by a dozen alert Marines with bayonets fixed while the provost marshal held Ramage's surrendered sword across his knees.

The
Arrogant,
where the court martial would be held in the morning, was a seventy-four anchored half a mile to windward of the
Lion.
Her yards were perfectly square—her Master would have made sure of that within a few minutes of anchoring. The enormous fore- and main-yards projected several feet over the side of the ship.

There, within an area of a few square feet, his immediate future would be decided, for the trial would be held in the great cabin. If the five or so captains at a court martial decided on a death sentence it would be carried out just under the foreyard on the starboard side.

First, a yellow flag would be hoisted at the
Arrogant
's mizen peak and a gun fired, signalling that an execution was to take place. A rope would be rove from a block near the outboard end of the yard. The end of the rope with a noose in it would come down vertically to where the prisoner was standing. The noose would be slipped round his neck, and they would be thoughtful enough to arrange the knot so it was comfortable—he had heard that executioners tended to be apologetic and excessively polite as they set about the preliminaries of their trade. A black hood would be put over the prisoner's head, and there he would wait in the darkness and it would seem a lifetime before he reached eternity.

The other end of the rope would lead down at an angle from that block to a point almost abreast the mainmast. Twenty or so seamen would be holding onto the rope and facing aft. On the deck immediately below where the prisoner was standing a gun would be loaded with a blank charge. Finally the word would be passed to the Captain of the
Arrogant
that all was ready: the noose would be in position round the prisoner's neck, and so would the hood. The seamen would have tailed on to the other end of the rope.

When the
Arrogant
's Captain gave the word, the gunner would apply a steady pull to the trigger line of the gun; the flint would fly down to strike a spark which would ignite the fine powder in the pan. The intense flame would spurt through the touch-hole and in turn ignite the powder in the breech of the gun. In a fraction of a second two pounds of exploding gunpowder would vomit flame, smoke and noise from the muzzle.

At the same instant someone would signal to the men at the rope and they would suddenly run aft. In a moment the prisoner's body would be jerked many feet up into the air by its neck, and it would all be over.

Hanging … it was better known to seamen as being “stabbed with a Bridport dagger,” a reference to the Devon town's fame for the quality of rope it made. A great leveller. Many men had probably been hanged from the larboard fore yardarm of the
Arrogant,
but probably none from the starboard yardarm. Seamen were traditionally hanged on the larboard side; the starboard side was reserved for officers. Ramage shuddered. He was glad the trial was unlikely to develop quite as Goddard planned.

“Ramage!”

He looked up and realized that the yawl was alongside the
Lion.
He had been so lost in thought that he had not heard the orders to the men at the oars. Now the Lieutenant acting as provost marshal waited impatiently.

As Ramage moved across the boat to climb up the ship's side he was reminded of a farmyard at home. If one of the hens had a cut or a sore, all the other hens pecked it. Human beings often behaved in the same way. As far as the Marine Lieutenant was concerned, Ramage was the hen with the wound. Peck, peck, peck.

He was taken directly to a cabin—some wretched lieutenant had been displaced on his behalf. The Marine officer reminded him pompously that he had been appointed provost marshal and was responsible for guarding him.

“Make a good job of it,” Ramage said, irritated by the man's patronizing manner. “It's worth four shillings a day to you.”

“I have my duty!”

“Then guard me well: I'm a desperate man. Any moment I might jump over the side and elope with a mermaid.”

The Lieutenant looked at him blankly and left hurriedly. For a moment Ramage felt guilty about teasing him, but did the hen that pecked deserve any sympathy if the pecked hen suddenly pecked back?

An hour later Southwick arrived.