Ramage's Challenge (25 page)

Cargill took a few moments to recover from his surprise, and he then turned to Sir Henry. “You see, Faversham—even
he
agrees with me.”

Sir Henry was learning, and contented himself with a nod.

Admiral Keeler said quickly, “I don't think that Ramage quite understood the point you're making, Cargill.”

“Indeed I did, sir,” Ramage said politely. “The general said the only way to beat the French—on land, of course—is by a direct frontal attack in regular order because, by and large, French troops are a rabble. I know nothing of French troops, but I am sure he does; such an opinion must be based on a great deal of experience on the field of battle.”

He paused, and noted how Cargill flushed. No, Ramage decided, the gallant general has not yet smelled powder. He then saw that while Sir Henry idly turned his glass by the stem and appeared supremely bored by the conversation, the other two admirals, the marquis, two earls, and the viscount looked alarmed at Ramage's words, and even Lieutenant-General the Earl of Innes seemed uncomfortable, as though only loyalty to the army stopped him from flatly contradicting Cargill.

“No, sir,” Ramage told Admiral Keeler, “this French rabble that General Cargill so well describes is always met by direct frontal attacks in regular order—the Austrians have been doing it all the time, and I am sure the War Office in Whitehall has it in mind that the British army will employ the same tactics, once we can fight the French on land.”

“But for God's sake!” Admiral Keeler exclaimed. “The French beat the Austrians every time they meet!”

“Oh yes, indeed they do, sir,” Ramage said dreamily, and Sir Henry stopped twiddling his glass and put it down on the table, the better to concentrate. He was slightly deaf on the left side; he turned so that his right ear would miss nothing.

“You see, sir,” Ramage said to Sir William Keeler, speaking lightly, as if telling him the time of breakfast next morning, “there seems to be some misunderstanding about the nature of the enemy. I am a very junior post captain, and it would not do for me to argue with a general about military affairs. About naval affairs, naturally, I am better informed.”

“I should think so!” Sir William snapped. “And you have your orders from the Admiralty.”

“Of course, sir,” Ramage said respectfully, “and I am given freedom in the way I carry them out.”

“What the deuce has all this to do with the point I'm making that French troops are a rabble, and we need to make a frontal attack?” asked Cargill.

“Nothing, sir,” Ramage said politely. “I don't think anyone is arguing with your professional views on tactics. Most certainly I wasn't …”

“Then who decided on this ‘guile' business?”

“Ah, I think that's where a misunderstanding has arisen. The objective—perhaps some people are not clear about our objective?”

Sir Henry held up his glass as Silkin came round with the decanter. This young fellow Ramage, he thought, can tie Cargill in knots if he has a mind to, whether the subject is military tactics or wet-nursing a baby. It is a joy to listen to a young man presenting a well-thought-out argument; it flows smoothly, like this wine. Fortunate indeed, Sir Henry decided, that he had ended up on board a frigate commanded by a fellow like this.

“I'm in no doubt about the objective,” Cargill declared. “Damned obvious what it is. The objective,
and
the means of achieving it.”

Ramage nodded. “I am glad to hear you saying that, sir,” he said, “so we are in agreement.”

“Agreement?” Cargill repeated suspiciously. “Agreement over what?”

“You're teasing me, sir,” Ramage said, “just because I am a sailor, without your military experience.”

Sir Henry recognized his cue. “Well, Ramage, I'm sure the marquis and the other gentlemen would like to hear your views on the objective and the means of achieving it.”

Ramage looked round innocently at the marquis, who nodded vigorously.

“Oh, in that case … well, we are lucky because, of course, unlike our former Austrian allies, our objective is not the defeat of a French army, but the release of several women hostages held by the French army.

“As long as the helpless role of ‘hostage' is borne in mind, obviously there can be no direct frontal attack, otherwise the hostages would be killed out of hand.

“I think that was where General Cargill was being misunderstood: he was saying that French
troops
should be attacked from the front, but of course attacking the French troops is the last thing we want to do. After all, we are a band of rough sailors doing our best to rescue a group of women hostages. The wives of several of you gentlemen.”

Neatly done, Sir Henry decided. Ramage was clever enough to see there was no advantage in hacking Cargill down with a cavalry sabre. Instead, he had slipped in a narrow-bladed stiletto. Now Cargill could not disagree with anything Ramage said without appearing both boorish and foolish.

Cargill took out a large silk handkerchief and mopped his face. “Hot in here, isn't it. Yes, Ramage, nothing you've said contradicts the canons of military tactics. You've no trained troops, anyway.”

“No, indeed,” Ramage said. “If I had, I would of course, with the Earl of Innes' approval, invite you to lead them.”

The earl nodded and turned his face away quickly so that Cargill could not see his relief. He had no wish to assert his authority over Cargill in front of three admirals—he could just imagine the Secretary of State for War's comments when the news reached Dundas's office—but damnation, his own wife was one of the hostages, and no clod like Cargill, who'd never smelled powder, was going to put her life at risk.

This fellow Ramage had already marched three admirals, two generals, a marquis, a brace of earls, a viscount, and a couple of heirs out of Castello at Giglio, signing a receipt for the French commandant with everyone smiling at each other—and not a pistol waved, let alone fired. Call that guile, chicanery, deception, or whatever this dam' fool Cargill chose, but by any gentleman's measure it was a fine piece of cool bravery, and if the Earl of Blazey's son could do it again to get the women out safely, then Cargill had better keep out of the way.

The earl shook his head. Cargill was running true to form—a
nouveau riche
family had brought him promotion, so Cargill had never bothered to learn soldiering, other than primping in front of a mirror and then stamping and shouting his way round a parade ground. Typical of the man was the way he used a loud and abrasive voice to disguise his ignorance and shout down anyone who tried to argue.

Young Ramage obviously recognized the type and had cut Cargill down to size without ever raising his voice above a quiet, conversational level. In fact, Lord Ball, at this end of the table, had been sitting the whole time with his head forward, hand cupped behind his ear, just to hear what Ramage was saying.

Ramage held up a hand to attract Silkin. “You can begin serving,” he said. To the men sitting round the table he said, “Gentlemen, a frigate's fare is of necessity sparse.”

He does not apologize, Sir Henry noted, he just explains. The admiral happened to glance up and accidentally caught the earl of Innes' eye. The earl's name stood second on the list of lieutenants-general; he would be a field marshal in the next lot of promotions. Cargill's name must be well down a list which included a couple of hundred majors-general. The earl was so much Cargill's superior in rank that the men sitting round the table could be forgiven for thinking Cargill was trying to commit professional suicide. In fact, Sir Henry guessed, the wretched Cargill was sublimely certain that he was making a great impression on Lieutenant-General the Earl of Innes. Come to think of it, he was. He imagined the earl drafting a report to the Horse Guards, describing Cargill's conduct. No, it would not be done that way; the earl would simply make a comment, and that would be that. But that was all in the future. The earl could not visit the Horse Guards until all the present problems were solved; until wives were restored to husbands. For a moment he thought of the members of the Board sitting at the long, highly polished table in the boardroom at the Admiralty. They would not be conscious of the ticking of the Thomas Bradley clock just inside the door—a clock which had recorded the time since just after the Restoration. By now there would be a fire burning—and none of the members would recall (if they knew in the first place) that the back of the fireplace comprised a cast-iron plate showing the arms of Charles II. Earl St Vincent would be sitting at the head of the table, with the windows overlooking the stables on his left, the fireplace and wall with the chart rollers on the right.

John Jervis, now first Earl St Vincent, was a very lucky man. Lucky because he had little skill handling a fleet in battle, and his great victory against the combined fleets of France and Spain off Cape St Vincent was due to Nelson, then an obscure commodore, who had the guts to quit the British line to cut off the escaping enemy. But … the idea fluttered along the edges of his memory … was not young Ramage involved in it? Lieutenant Nicholas Ramage? A cutter—the
Kathleen,
or some such name. Yes! Ramage had seen that Jervis had not realized the French and Spanish were escaping, and he sailed his cutter across the bows of the leading enemy ship, the
San Nicolas.

The Spanish three-decker sank the
Kathleen,
and, by a miracle, Ramage and many of his crew survived. But the unexpected move delayed the enemy long enough for Nelson, in the
Captain,
to quit the line to take advantage of Ramage's action.

Nelson had been followed by some other captains while Jervis sailed on, unaware of what was going on (or more likely, unable to gauge its significance). But because the British fleet won the battle, its commander-in-chief received the customary earldom, Sir Jervis took his title from the cape, and Nelson received a baronetcy. Not a knighthood, Sir Henry recalled, which had no outward form, but a baronetcy, which gave him something to sew on the breast of his coat.

Yes, Nelson is an odd little man, quite out of the run of the usual flag officers. And that, he admitted, was an ambiguous remark because Nelson had put an end to the traditional idea that breaking the enemy's line of battle and capturing a couple of ships was enough to claim victory.

Yes, Nelson had recently introduced a new fashion at sea, when the complete destruction of the enemy's fleet is the objective. He started at Cape St Vincent, where he had captured three of the four enemy ships taken (leading the boarding parties against two of them); then at the Nile a few years ago, by then a rear-admiral (a promotion which several jealous admirals resented bitterly), he had burned or captured thirteen of the French fleet of seventeen ships; and then had come Copenhagen.

The man was brilliant, even if his high-pitched voice and high-flown opinions sometimes ruffled feathers. Luckily, Earl St Vincent had been magnanimous enough to accept Nelson's brilliance at St Vincent, and he had been responsible for Nelson being at the Nile and then Copenhagen. So the taciturn St Vincent, while not approving of Nelson's private life with Lady Hamilton (who did?), recognized him as the navy's foremost fighting man.

What the deuce brought on those thoughts? Sir Henry thought back. Oh yes, wives being restored to husbands, and the Board's view.

Well, the Board's view would be a pale reflection of St Vincent's, since no member of the Board would dare to stand up to the earl, whose pithy, abrupt comments were passed round the navy like children playing “Pass the parcel:” “A naval officer who marries is an officer lost to the Service”—the earl (while still Sir John Jervis) had just about broken Sir Thomas Troubridge's heart with that letter, particularly since St Vincent was wrong and Sir Thomas did not intend to marry.

So how would the Board (which meant the earl) now regard Ramage's activities over the wives? Sir Henry realized that he, too, could be heavily involved in any recriminations, and so could Smarden and Keeler, although Keeler gave the appearance of being a trimmer. After a year's close observation of the man, Sir Henry had decided that Keeler would always be on the winning side—until the last moment, when he would make a fatal mistake which would bring him down. Glib, hale-fellow-well-met, quick to ingratiate himself with the wives of superior officers as he struggled to get to the top, Keeler was what Sir Henry privately regarded as a two of clubs: outwardly the same shape and colour as the card on which was printed the ace of spades—but worthless.

Wives. So if Ramage was delayed in completing the Admiralty orders to rescue the hostages because he was going back for the wives, or if going back meant a failure of any sort, then young Ramage would be done for. The earl would make sure that he ended his days either on the beach on half-pay (not that that would matter: once he succeeded his father, he would be a very rich man) or as captain of a transport—the ultimate punishment for someone of Ramage's temperament and calibre.

As he ate, hardly noticing what it was, the admiral reviewed his thoughts. In the light of what he knew about Ramage's orders, and the views of Earl St Vincent, who had drawn them up, he should persuade Ramage to give up any attempt to rescue the wives—the second party of hostages, in other words. Because Ramage was under Admiralty orders, he could not
order
him, but by telling him (in writing) that in his view he should leave for Gibraltar at once, that would cover Ramage.

Sir Henry mentally shrugged his shoulders. From what he had seen and heard of Ramage, the youngster would do what he considered correct, cover or not. He had stood up to Cargill without knowing (or caring about) the opinions of three admirals and a lieutenant-general, and he did it because he had confidence in himself.

Sir Henry looked across the table at Ramage as Silkin began serving the next course. “A very creditable meal, Ramage. We must be dealing your livestock a crippling blow! So let's regard this feast as something special to celebrate our release, and from now on we take our chance with hardtack!”