Ramage's Trial Read Online Free PDF Page A

thought that he had two extra frigates if he wanted them, and to reflect on why he should not delay a friend of the Prince of Wales.
    â€œI have a number of other Royalists on board, sir,” Ramage said and, noting the gleam in Tewtin’s eye, hurriedly added: “They are very frightened that Bonaparte will take reprisals against their families in France, so they are very anxious that their names be kept secret. You will appreciate that they do not want to be invited to any receptions. In fact, I rather fear the Count will expect to hear our sailing date when I return on board.”
    â€œBut you have to water and provision, surely?” Tewtin said. “And the prizes – buying them in: I have to have them surveyed and valued…it all takes time.”
    â€œIndeed, sir,” Ramage said soothingly, knowing that having Tewtin on board to meet the Count in a day or so would work wonders: it would give the admiral something to tell his wife about in his next letter home.
    Tewtin suddenly snapped his fingers and shook his head, as though irritated with himself. “There’s a letter for you from the Admiralty – from Lord St Vincent, I believe.” He waved a hand at Newick. “Fetch it – you should have reminded me.”
    Again Ramage felt the strange chill. It was not a change in orders, telling him to take the Calypso or the Count to, say, Jamaica instead of England, because Their Lordships had no idea that Jean-Jacques had been rescued. There were (he finally forced himself to face the fact) no letters waiting for him from Sarah when he had expected a couple of dozen at least: she would have written every day, even if only writing letters like a diary, but she would have posted several. Lord St Vincent would certainly have sent a message telling her that a Post Office packet left for Barbados on regular dates and would carry any letters she had ready.
    â€œSir,” Newick said, and Ramage realized he had been repeating the word several times as he held out a packet with the familiar Admiralty seal.
    â€œThank you,” Ramage said automatically and picked up the canvas pouch. He dropped the packet into the pouch and took out his report of proceedings, handing it to Tewtin.
    The rear-admiral saw it was a lengthy document and realized it was bound to take several pages to reduce to writing the story which Ramage had paraphrased.
    â€œVery well, my boy, I will read this and we’ll have the prizes surveyed and valued as soon as possible. You’ll soon be on your way,” he added jovially. “You to return to your new wife; the Count to call on the Prince of Wales. Although I haven’t read your report yet, it does seem to me you have done an outstanding job. Off you go, then, and do assure the Count he would be very welcome and I will get passages for the other French Royalists in the next convoy for England.”
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    The Queen ’s boat taking Ramage back to the Calypso seemed to go so slowly that to him the seamen might have been ancients rowing through molasses. He climbed on board, nodded to Aitken who, as first lieutenant, was waiting at the entryport to greet him, and went straight down to his cabin. The canvas pouch seemed to be weighing a hundredweight by now; Lord St Vincent’s letter appeared in his imagination as a harbinger of some nameless evil he could not imagine.
    He tossed the pouch on his desk and sat down at the chair. Steady, he told himself, it’s only a packet. Probably just a private letter from St Vincent with a message for the Count from the Prince of Wales, or perhaps some advice on how to deal with it all (the Earl would have to assume that Ramage had been successful). And judging from the thickness of the packet, there were fresh orders, too. Nor would that be unusual. He had been sent across the Atlantic on the orders of Admiral Clinton, commanding the Channel Fleet, but it had all been a highly irregular proceeding