Ramage & the Rebels (45 page)

“You murderer!” he exclaimed.

“Every one of those men would still be alive had you kept your word,” Ramage said bitterly. “You wave white flags and surrender when the rebels frighten you, and then you tear up the surrender document the moment you think you are safe. And with the Captain of the
Delft
you planned to imprison the very people who took great risks to save you. You surrendered; then you committed treachery.”

“You—you …” van Someren fought to control his temper. “This is a matter of honour: You must choose, swords or pistols. My—”

“You are such a scoundrel,” Ramage said contemptuously, “that no gentleman would meet you on a field of honour. Anyway, you are under arrest. Your escort is waiting at the gate.”

“But—where are you taking me?”

“To Jamaica. This gentleman—” he indicated Aitken—”sails at noon in the schooner
Créole.
You will go with him.”

“And you?”

“I remain with my ship until I receive orders from my Admiral. You will go at once. Call the sergeant,” he told Aitken as he felt the dizziness pulling him down.

Van Someren came over to him. “Are you badly wounded?”

Ramage shook his head and felt as though he had been clubbed. “No, just a cut or two.”

Aitken was standing beside him. “Are you all right, sir? I'll get this fellow on board and come back when you've had a bit of a rest.”

“Yes, do that,” Ramage said, and managed to stay on his feet until van Someren and Aitken had gone through the door, and then quite slowly the floor came up at a steep angle and hit him in the face.

He woke to find himself in a cool bedroom lying in a large four-poster bed with a portly Dutchman peering at him through enormously thick spectacle lenses and examining his head, while Maria van Someren held his left arm as though any moment it might crumble into a dozen pieces.

The Dutchman caught his eye. “Ah, you wake. You ask the usual question, ‘Where am I?' and I answer, ‘In Government House.' I am a doctor.”

Ramage was conscious of a gentle pressure on the palm of his left hand and he looked at Maria. “You have been unconscious a long time—you see, the sun has risen,” she said. “Mr Aitken has been up to see you with—Mr Sousewick, is it? He leaves at noon. And one of your lieutenants is waiting, Mr Wagstaffe, and three seamen. He asked if when you recover consciousness they could see you—I have their names written—”

“Don't worry,” Ramage said, “I know who they'll be.”

The Dutch doctor interrupted. “I must insist you rest now. No more of the talking. I have bandaged the head and this afternoon we remove the musket ball from the arm. You will need all the strength for that.”

“Quite,” Ramage said, “and I am grateful for your treatment, but I have a lot to do.”

“My dear sir, your ship is safely at anchor, and Miss van Someren has told you that the schooner leaves at noon—with her father. There is nothing else to bother you.”

“The island all round my ship happens to be my responsibility too, Doctor. If the French arrive and murder you all in your beds, I don't want your ghosts haunting me.”

“But surely there is no risk of that, my dear sir. Why, the island has been surrendered to you. We are now under British protection.”

“Look at me, Doctor,” Ramage said sarcastically. “I am your British protection. Now, if you have finished, would you send in my men as you go out.”

Maria continued holding his hand to her breast and he was just becoming conscious that she wore no stays when there was a knock at the door and she answered. Wagstaffe looked in, saw Ramage was awake and grinned. “Good morning, sir. We had no time to get you a posy of flowers, but I bring greetings from the Calypsos. Did you get a message about Jackson and—”

“Bring them in!”

The three seamen trooped in, startled to see Maria, and lined up at the foot of the bed. “Glad to see you looking a bit better, sir,” Jackson said. “More colour in your face.”

“I have my own doctor and my own nurse. These men,” he said to Maria, “disobeyed orders and deserve to be punished.”

Maria looked startled and said, wide-eyed: “I am sure they meant no harm.”

“Oh no,” Ramage said mildly, “it was disobedience that saved me from being blown up. Now, Jackson, tell me what happened.”

The American looked embarrassed. “Well, sir, there's not much to tell. While we had way on we were moving targets and those Dutchmen's muskets did no harm, but the minute we stopped alongside of ‘em we were sitting ducks. But funny how it is, I don't think they actually hit anybody until after you gave the order to abandon ship.”

“Is right,” Rossi confirmed. “Is a miracle but no one was hit.”

“Then as you blew the whistle, I saw Mr Baker hit. One shot took off the side of his face, and then he was hit again.”

“How do you know?” Ramage asked out of curiosity.

“Staff was holding him—just making sure there was no hope. Then we saw Mr Rennick was hit. He ordered us—Staff and me, that is, ‘cos Rosey had already seen you were hit but we hadn't—to leave him be.”

“What happened then?”

“Staff and the Marine sergeant picked him up and dropped him over the side, and the sergeant swam with him towards the boat.”

“And then … ?”

“Well, sir, Rosey let out a yell and we saw you lying down, sort of hidden by the binnacle, and you was lying on your left side, so all the blood from the wound on the right was running down all over your face.

“I thought you was gone, sir, but—” he looked embarrassed—“well, Rosey and Staff and me picked you up anyway and tossed you over the side and went in after you. We thought the schooner would blow up any minute, and—well, somehow it didn't seem right to leave you dead on a half-breed ship like that.”

“A half-breed ship?” Maria murmured, both horrified by the story and puzzled by the expression.

“Well, ma'am, she had a Spanish name and a French owner, and they were all murderers. At least the sea made a better resting place for the Captain—not that he needed it,” he added hastily.

Maria looked at Ramage. “When he says ‘murderers' does he really mean—”

“Yes,” Ramage said abruptly. “Now, Jackson, the other wounded seamen?”

“They were tossed over the same way. You see, sir, I'm afraid no one took too much notice about your order about leaving the wounded.”

“But I made it quite clear when I called for volunteers. I said that anyone wounded and unable to fend for himself would have to be left behind.”

“Oh yes, sir, and bless you for it, but you didn't expect that to stop anyone.”

“No—the whole ship's company volunteered.”

“And you only picked sixteen, not counting the officers and the sergeant. That's why the sail-handlers stowed away.”

Ramage sighed. He realized that he had watched the last strands of the
Nuestra Señora
's anchor cable part under the axe blows, and as the ship gathered way he thought he was in command … and the men, he had to admit, were kind enough to leave him with that illusion.

He looked over at Wagstaffe. “How is Rennick now?”

“He'll be all right, sir. Bowen has removed the ball in one piece and nothing vital is damaged. He's sleeping now.”

“And the rest of the butcher's bill?”

“Apart from Baker, we know six seamen were killed, and two more are missing. We can find no trace of them. Five were wounded—that includes you and Mr Rennick, sir.”

“And Dutch survivors?”

Wagstaffe glanced at Maria, but Ramage nodded.

“None, sir.”

Maria said quietly, “It was better that way. That dreadful man, the Captain, he threatened my father with the guillotine, and he was going to seize you today when you came on shore. He was certain you would try to negotiate. And then tonight, after you had been … after you had been shot, they were going to board the
Calypso
…”

“And that was why you gave back the ring and Lausser resigned his commission?”

She nodded, weeping quietly. “I could not ever marry a man who agreed with his Captain doing that, and Major Lausser could not persuade my father …”

Ramage looked up at the three seamen and grinned. “You will tell the ship's company that any further disobedience will be punished.”

“Oh, natcherly, sir,” Stafford said. “Fact o' the matter is,” he added soberly, “I ‘spect that before next Michaelmas some of ‘em will be regretting their disobedience!”

With that the three men left the room and Maria asked: “What is a mickle mouse?”

“I'll tell you in a moment,” Ramage said. “Now, Wagstaffe, as the Second Lieutenant you are in temporary command of the
Calypso.
I want a dozen Marines in each of the forts until we establish discipline on shore. I am making Major Lausser the acting governor, but all his orders will be countersigned by me. And have a guard-boat rowing across the harbour entrance from sunset until sunrise. Can you think of anything else?”

“Bowen was worrying about your medical treatment, sir. That ball still in your arm …”

“You can report the evidence of your own eyes,” Ramage said. “He can inspect the ball tomorrow—the doctor removes it this afternoon. In the meantime it hurts, I can tell you that much.”

Two weeks later to the day Ramage climbed down into a boat, wearing a hat for the first time over the large scar on his scalp, and sat back as Jackson gave the orders which sent the boat surging towards the ship of the line which had just anchored a hundred yards to seaward of where the
Delft
had blown up.

Fifteen minutes after that he was on board the
Queen,
reporting to Admiral Foxe-Foote, whose first words were a complaint, not a greeting: “I expected to receive a written report, Ramage, and all I get is a verbal report from your First Lieutenant.”

“I trust you received the instrument of surrender for this island, sir, and the former Governor.”

“Yes, yes,” Foxe-Foote said impatiently. “Now, what about those privateers. Young Aitken tells me there are only nine left. And I hope the wreckage of this damned Dutch frigate hasn't blocked the harbour. The channel's narrow enough as it is.”

“The area has been buoyed, sir.”

“I should think so. An enemy frigate and a schooner lost. Not a penn'orth of prize-money; thousands of guineas just sunk. Bad business, Ramage; no forethought, that's your trouble. Oh yes, a convoy came in two days before I sailed, and some young woman was asking about you. She had a foreign name.”

Ramage looked blankly at Aitken, who was standing behind the Admiral. The Scotsman winked.

“A name like Volterra, sir?” Ramage asked.

“Yes, that was it. Miss Volterra. You know her?”

“I know a Marchesa di Volterra, sir.”

“
Marchesa?
Why, is she related to the lady that rules Volterra?”

“Yes, sir. In fact she is the lady.”

“Good heavens! Why, well, had I known, my wife would …”

“I am sure the Marchesa is quite comfortable, sir,” Ramage said politely, watching the Admiral's face as he realized that this “Miss Volterra” not only had her own kingdom, but probably had enough influence in London to make or break admirals on distant stations. “Now, sir, about those nine privateers …”

T
HE fourth edition of
Steele's Naval Chronologist of the Late War
was published in London in 1806, and on page 100, under the heading “Colonies, Settlements &c, captured from the enemy,” is the following brief reference:

The island of Curaçao, in the West Indies, D[utch]: surrendered after having claimed the protection of his Britannic Majesty, to the
Néréide,
36, Capt. F. Watkins, September 12, 1800.

William James, in his
Naval History of Great Britain,
Volume III, gives more details:

On the 11th of September, while the British twelve-pounder 36-gun frigate
Néréide
… was cruising off the port of Amsterdam, in the island of Curaçao, the Dutch inhabitants of the latter, tired out with the enormities of the band of 1500 republican ruffians that were in possession of the west end of the island, sent off a deputation to claim the protection of England. On the 13th the capitulation surrendering the island … was signed … The vessels, large and small, lying in the harbour of Amsterdam, numbering 44; but no ships of war were among them.

The rest of the story is told by the redoubtable James, who recorded the whole war in great detail. The island was subsequently returned to the Dutch, and Amsterdam's name was later changed to Willemstad.

D. P.

Yacht
Ramage

English Harbour

Antigua, West Indies