Ramage (43 page)

The Commodore interrupted:

‘Mr Ramage has received a shock. My little surprise seems to have misfired and he deserves an explanation. Count Pitti, perhaps you would oblige – and please be seated,’ he added, pushing a chair towards him.

Pitti sat down heavily.

‘
Allora, Tenente
, you remember you met us on the track leading to the Tower? Well, when you and Gianna ran over the dunes towards the sea, my cousin Pisano and I, with the two peasants, went on to the Tower along the track and then up on to the dunes.

‘I was worried about Gianna and stopped on top of the dunes to look back. I saw several French cavalry galloping along the beach towards you. It seemed impossible for either of you to avoid being killed. Then suddenly, at the last moment, a man ran out of the bushes and down the side of the dune, charging the cavalrymen and shouting so loud he frightened the horses.’

‘Yes,’ Ramage nodded. ‘That was my cox’n, Jackson.’

‘Well, I watched you pick up Gianna and run towards the boat at the end of the dunes. But at that moment two or three French soldiers, who must have galloped along the track and left their horses by the Tower, suddenly appeared behind me – between me and the Tower.

‘I ran into the bushes and the soldiers followed, but they had to split up because the bushes were so thick.

‘I had almost reached the end of the dunes, running in and out of the bushes like a rabbit, when I slipped in the sand as I crossed a clearing – you remember how soft it was – and broke my ankle. I managed to crawl under a bush a few moments before a French soldier appeared in the clearing. He stopped – I think he saw the marks I had made in the sand.

‘There was a shot behind him – from the direction he’d come – and he fell down; but almost at once there were more shots and much shouting in French, and the rest of the soldiers went back towards the Tower. I think he was shot accidentally by one of his own people because he was in front and the rest of them mistook him for one of us.’

Ramage asked: ‘Which way was he facing when he was shot?’

‘Towards the boat: the ball hit the back of his head. Ah – I see why you ask. Well, I stayed under my bush for two or three minutes; then I heard someone calling in English from the direction of the boat. Then a man ran into the clearing and turned the body over – it was lying on its face.

‘The man was you, was it not? I recognized you when you came into the cabin: you have a particular – how do you say, a particular stance.’

‘Yes, I came back. But I didn’t realize the body was of a French soldier.’

‘I am not surprised: he was a cavalryman and wore a cloak, as I did. He was not wearing a hat – I expect he lost it. He wore white breeches and boots – just as I was wearing.’

The Commodore said, ‘The uniforms of Revolutionary France are very sober now: none of the old trappings.’

‘
Allora
, I was going to call you, but I knew my ankle was broken and that it would take a long time for me to get to the boat. I also knew any delay would risk everyone else’s life. So I stayed under the bush and you went away. Then a few minutes later someone else came running through the clearing, from the same direction that the French soldier had come.

‘He too looked at the body and swore in English. I realized it was a sailor and guessed he was the man who charged the cavalry. Well, that’s all.’

‘But how did you get here?’

‘That was not too difficult. You told the two peasants that I was missing, and ordered them to escape. They crossed the river – to please you, incidentally – and as soon as you had gone off in the boat came back to look for me. After the French soldiers fired at you from the beach they galloped away.’

‘Then what happened?’

‘The peasants took me to a hut near the village of Capalbio, and bribed a fisherman from Port’ Ercole to take me to Elba – to Porto Ferraio. He would not risk crossing to Bastia, and so we went along the coast at night. At Port Ferraio I found a British frigate, and went on board. The next day Commodore Nelson arrived and until yesterday I was his guest.’

Ramage looked at Nelson. ‘So Count Pitti was on board when you arrived here, sir?’

‘Yes, my boy.’

‘Well, sir, I do think–’

‘No,’ interrupted Nelson, ‘not if you think a little harder. When I read the minutes of the trial which my arrival interrupted, I needed a lieutenant to take command of the
Kathleen
. In view of the circumstances surrounding the trial, I thought it wiser you should leave Bastia for a short while. I asked Count Pitti if he would mind if the Marchesa was kept waiting for a few more hours before she was told that he was safe, and he agreed.’

Ramage said, ‘I am sorry, sir: I didn’t realize…’

‘Oh, don’t thank me,’ replied Nelson. ‘I don’t want cowards serving under me. I was bound to send a report to Sir John Jervis about the rather – er, inconclusive – proceedings here involving an accusation of cowardice. If I could later forward a report from the same young officer describing how he had successfully rescued the crew of the
Belette
, then neither the Admiral nor myself need have any further doubts about his courage – or qualities of leadership for that matter.’

‘But sir, you had no idea that it would be any harder rescuing them than picking them up from a quay!’ exclaimed Ramage.

‘Oh?’ Nelson said, raising his eyebrows. ‘On the contrary. An offshore wind, another headland to get in your way – and I guessed French troops would be on board. I believe Lord Probus made some reference to you to the effect that you were still on trial?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘That was intended to be a warning. Now let’s change the subject. You have probably realized we may have to evacuate Bastia?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, Count Pisano and Lady Elliot left this morning for Gibraltar. The Marchesa and Count Pitti are also going to Gibraltar, but they wanted to await your return, so they leave tomorrow night.’

He watched Ramage’s face fall and said sympathetically, ‘Yes, it is very sad: I for one shall miss their company. However, I hope we shall all meet again soon under happier circumstances. Are you tired, Mr Ramage?’

‘No, sir,’ lied Ramage.

‘Very well, perhaps you would care to join us for supper?’

The supper had been a great success: Nelson had kept them all amused, teasing both Gianna and Ramage, and in turn being teased by Pitti, who was obviously fascinated by the little man’s vivacity. They had all drunk bumpers to the downfall of Bonaparte, the safety of the two charcoal burners, the health and happiness of Gianna, and a safe voyage for both her and Pitti.

Finally the supper had ended, and Nelson had taken his farewell of the two cousins, and suggested Ramage did the same, explaining that they were returning to the Viceroy’s residence and Ramage might not have time to call on them next day.

So he had said goodbye. Pitti had said very little; in fact he was almost formal. Nor had Gianna seemed upset at the prospect of being parted from him. Her eyes had twinkled, but when a moment later he kissed her hand it had been limp: there was no secret pressure, no hidden message in its touch. The rescue, he thought sourly, was at last completed: the cousins were reunited and Lieutenant Ramage’s role had ended.

Just as he had turned to leave the cabin – he wanted to be the first to leave the ship, so that he did not have to watch the boat carry Gianna to the shore – the Commodore had handed him a sealed packet.

‘Your orders,’ he said shortly. ‘Let me have your written report on the
Belette
operation in the forenoon tomorrow.’

Now, as Jackson steered the boat back to the
Kathleen
in the darkness, Ramage sat in the sternsheets, eaten up with bitterness. It was all façade, all pretence with these Italians. One minute she was on her knees beside him; the next minute she was saying goodbye with about as much emotion as she would display to a guest who had overstayed his welcome.

A hail came from the cutter and Jackson shouted back, ‘
Kathleen
’, warning them that the captain was on board.

As soon as he reached his tiny cabin, where the steward had a moment before hooked a lantern to the bulkhead, he unhitched his sword, flung himself into the chair, and stared down at the deck. The canvas stretched across it as a carpet was worn where the door scraped and needed painting again. Hell, he was tired. How lucky was a piece of canvas, he thought sleepily: a coat of paint would cover all the old marks and make it like new.

He pulled the sealed linen envelope from his pocket. What did the Commodore want him to do now? Some dam’ fool errand: that’s all cutters were meant for. Probably deliver despatches to Sir John Jervis at San Fiorenzo, or take letters for the Ambassador in Naples.

He broke the seal, opened the envelope and began reading. ‘You are hereby required and directed,’ it said, ‘to receive on board His Majesty’s ship under your command the persons of the Marchesa di Volterra and Count Pitti and to proceed with all possible despatch to Gibraltar, being careful to follow a southerly route to avoid interception, by enemy ships of war… On arrival at Gibraltar you will report forthwith to the admiral commanding to receive orders for your further proceedings.’

Ramage grinned: no wonder Gianna’s eyes had twinkled.

Dates given are for first publication and (for Ramge series) year in which novel is set.

These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

Published by House of Stratus

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