Dudley Pope - The Ramage Touch

"I have no wish to be burdened with so many prisoners," Ramage said conversationally, "so I am proposing to land all of you at Porto Ercole, providing each of you signs the usual agreement not to serve again until regularly exchanged. You agree to that?"

Poitier nodded eagerly, wincing as the movement jerked his leg. "Yes, of course. It is generous of you. You can go into Porto Ercole under a flag of truce."

"Very well, we shall do that. However, there is one small question. Small for me," he said, tapping the papers again, "but of more consequence for you."

Poitier looked at him warily. "What is it? I've agreed to the exchange - which takes nearly three hundred prisoners off your hands. They could rise and take your ship."

"They could not," Ramage said shortly. "We rescued them from drowning, but any sign that they are not suitably grateful means that they get a whiff of canister shot fired into the middle of them. No, I was thinking of your own particular position."

"My own position? Well, if I sign an exchange agreement, presumably you will put me on shore with the rest. You will have my parole."

"Yes," Ramage said carefully, "and at the moment, only two people know that you did not dispose of your most secret papers - you, and me."

Poitier went white, making a curious grasping movement with his hands, as though afraid he would fall from the chair. "What . . . what do you mean?"

"If your Minister of Marine and Colonies knew that you had not destroyed these papers - even though the Furet had been overtaken by an enemy ship, had hauled down her colours and was sinking - I think we know what would happen to you. You recognize them" - he held them up and when he had put them down he reached for the box and held it up, "- and the weighted box? Bottom right-hand drawer of your desk?"

When Poitier made no answer Ramage said: "The guillotine, I imagine."

Poitier nodded dumbly. "Yes, they would suspect a plot. Collusion, in fact. My family in Britanny would be punished. Our land would be confiscated. There would be no end to it."

"Exactly," Ramage said, hating what he was having to do but knowing that he had no choice. "That young lieutenant of yours knows nothing and suspects nothing. I presume the captain disposed of his papers?"

"I don't know," Poitier admitted. "I did not see him, but anyway it hardly matters now - he is dead and the ship is sunk and obviously you do not have them. Had I seen him throwing them over the side it would have reminded me, but the ship was beginning to sink so fast and you were so close in our wake ... we were concerned -"

"With staying alive," Ramage interrupted with deliberate cruelty, trying to make it easier for Poitier to agree to what he was about to propose. "A broadside pour l'honneur du pavilion and then a hurried surrender."

"It was not like that," Poitier protested. "We had to bear up to slow the ship - her speed was ripping away the planks . . ."

Ramage shrugged. "You will have to convince your minister about that, not me. But the affair of the secret papers - that is the thing which could send you to the guillotine."

"Will send me to the guillotine," Poitier said.

"Yes, if it becomes known in Paris I am sure it will."

Poitier glanced up at the word "if", caught Ramage's eye and said frankly: "You are offering me some kind of exchange? What can I bargain with?"

"You can have all these papers -" Ramage pushed them towards him across the top of the desk, "- in exchange for one piece of information. Once I have it, you will be free to go out to the quarter gallery and throw them over the side. Or you can put them in your pocket."

"What piece of information ?" Poitier blurted out.

"What is that 'special service'?"

Poitier's head dropped and his eyes closed. For a moment Ramage thought he had fainted. With a great effort he pulled himself together, sat upright and, looking directly at Ramage, said: "There is no 'special service' now. I doubt if you will believe me but it has been cancelled. One of the minister's aides came to tell me, and the fleet -" he broke off, as if deciding to keep the rest secret.

Ramage pulled the documents back across the desk and began straightening them up, so that their top edges were level. "I think you had better prepare yourself for the guillotine, Admiral. I'm sorry."

Poitier looked Ramage straight in the eye. "There is no reason why you should believe me, but I hope you will listen for a moment. The 'special service' is cancelled - not just postponed but cancelled - so I suppose there is nothing treasonable in my telling you about it.

"A fleet was being assembled in Toulon and Cartagena - there were to be several Spanish ships of the line accompanying us, but no Spanish troops - with transports. Troops were collecting from all over France, but to make up the required strength it was decided to use some forces from the Army of Italy - the men I was to collect at Porto Ercole. They were stationed at various places in the local province - at Grosseto, I think the town was called.

"As you have read in those letters, I was to sail from Toulon with three frigates, meet two bomb ketches at Porto Ercole, embark all these soldiers, and then sail for the rendezvous with the fleet."

Ramage held up his hand. "Where was the rendezvous?"

"At Candia. The fleet was to have sailed for Crete soon after me, although it was due to arrive there first, because I was expected to lose time embarking the troops at Porto Ercole - the army," he said without malice, "is rarely punctual."

He paused for a moment, as though collecting his thoughts. Or, Ramage realized, hurriedly making up more of a story, or ornamenting it. Up to now the story rang true though: certainly it seemed likely, and it was borne out by the letters.

"Where was I? Oh yes, the rendezvous at Candia. That was arranged, and according to the orders I had already received my three frigates provisioned and watered in Toulon for three months. You understand that provisions are difficult to obtain in France these days, and I had a struggle to get even a small amount of cordage and canvas to have as a reserve. I still had to get the extra month's provisions for the troops we were to embark in Porto Ercole.

"Then the minister's aide arrived in Porto Ercole yesterday, while we were loading troops, with the news that the whole operation had been cancelled. The admiral was told that half his ships of the line (five out of eleven) were to be laid up in ordinary, and all the seamen from those five ships with less than a year's experience at sea were to be handed over to the army.

"The orders for myself were that I should pick up the troops in Porto Ercole as arranged, and proceed to Candia. There I was to land the troops, who were to take up garrison duties in the island. The two bomb ketches were to remain there to give some protection to what is otherwise a poorly defended anchorage. Having escorted the bomb ketches and disembarked the troops, I was to return to Toulon with the frigates."

Ramage asked: "Where was the fleet to land this army?"

Poitier paused for a good minute, obviously weighing up his answer. Finally he said: "I cannot tell you. You could guess. There is only one place for which Bonaparte might again consider risking an army and a fleet."

Again? Ramage realized that Poitier wanted him to guess. "Egypt? Where he's already lost an army and a fleet?"

Poitier looked away and in his own mind had not mentioned the word. "The point of the great rendezvous of the fleet in Candia was that we did not think you British would look there, should you learn that we were assembling ships."

Ramage was about to comment that the Calypso comprised about the entire British force in the Mediterranean but held his tongue and gathered up the secret papers. "The letter cancelling the main operation and the orders that you should carry on to Candia are not here."