Ramage's Prize (31 page)

“Why don't you read your orders from Lord Spencer, Lieutenant?”

“We are dealing with Post Office business, Mr Chamberlain. You, as the Post Office Agent, have already told us—and I include Captain Kerguelen—officially that the Government will neither provide nor allow us to provide the money. The moment you told us that, we were Captain Kerguelen's prisoners again. He's freed of any undertaking he gave us.”

Yorke was watching Chamberlain closely as Ramage spoke, and the Agent's manner had become nervous and jerky, almost like a trapped animal. When they had first come into the room, Chamberlain had been pompous, almost bombastic, though his attempted snubbing of Kerguelen had fizzled out like a damp fuse. Although he had obviously not understood the parole business, he had condescendingly accepted it as being something that eccentric men involved themselves in, to the detriment of the Post Office.

Yorke began to wonder exactly what were Lord Auckland's instructions to the Agent. He had more than a suspicion that something underhand was going on. A quick glance told Yorke that Ramage thought so too and would probably offer the wretched Agent a way out.

Ramage said quietly, “I think you had better give us some idea of what Lord Auckland says.”

Chamberlain was struggling to recover some of his poise. “It's confidential,” he said, looking significantly at Yorke. “I'm prepared to impart it to you, Lieutenant, as a King's officer, but …”

“Then keep it to yourself,” Ramage said abruptly. “Mr Yorke was as much a party to the agreement as I was and has every right to know. Moreover he knows a great deal more about all this than you do. However, we are taking up your time. You can mention in your next report that since the money is not forthcoming we have withdrawn our parole. Now, if you'll excuse us …”

As Ramage abruptly turned away, Yorke saw the desperate look in Chamberlain's eyes: the paralysed stare of a frightened rabbit. The Agent's hands were clenched, perspiration suddenly beaded his forehead and the tip of his tongue wetted his lips.

Yorke put his hands on the desk and leaned slightly towards the Agent. “You are
quite
sure there's nothing more we should know, Mr Chamberlain?”

“I … well, His Lordship has … I have certain powers delegated to me … in certain circumstances … I—”

Ramage swung round and said savagely, “Give me Lord Auckland's letter!”

In a complete reflex action, Chamberlain handed it over.

Yorke knew that the moment Ramage read the letter and discovered whatever complex game it was that Chamberlain had been trying to play, he might lose control of himself and possibly strike the Agent.

“Mr Chamberlain,” he said quietly, “if you had some other business to attend to for five minutes, so that Lieutenant Ramage and I could …”

“Oh, certainly, certainly!” the Agent said thankfully and fled the room.

Ramage read the letter standing and then slumped in a chair. He held it out to Yorke. “It's just as well you got that scoundrel out of the room. Did you guess?”

Yorke did not reply and began reading quickly. “… absolutely essential that Lieutenant Ramage's freedom be arranged … Act forbids the Government to permit payment … However if you can arrange his release by any means …”

At that point Yorke nearly stopped reading but, realizing Ramage had read to the end, he carried on. The second page began, “In view of the importance of obtaining Lieutenant Ramage's freedom, and in case you are unable to arrange this, the Government are drafting a special Act to allow the payment to the French prizemaster in this particular instance, and it is confidently expected that this will be passed by both Houses of Parliament within a matter of days. The next packet, I anticipate, will bring you authority to carry out the terms of the agreement, should you have failed to obtain his prior release in some other manner. Lord Spencer is writing to Lieutenant Ramage by the same mail giving him fresh instructions and you will use your best endeavours to ensure that Lieutenant Ramage receives Lord Spencer's letter …”

“What on earth was Chamberlain trying to do?” Yorke asked incredulously.

“I'm damned if I know,” Ramage said wearily. “That phrase ‘by any means' at the beginning of the letter: perhaps he thought we'd agree to cheat Kerguelen and it'd be a feather in his cap. A letter of congratulation from Lord Auckland for saving them money …”

Yorke nodded. “It'd seem so simple to anyone with a mind like Chamberlain's: neutral port, British ships of war near by … we're safely on shore in his office so Kerguelen couldn't take us prisoner again … Leave Kerguelen to get out of the Tagus as best as he could, and arrange for a frigate to be waiting for him.”

“Exactly what I'd guessed,” Ramage said. “Yet there's nothing in Lord Auckland's letter even suggesting anything underhand.”

“Oh come,” Yorke said chidingly, opening the letter again and reading aloud: “‘release
by any means
… should you have failed to have obtained his release
in some other manner
…' That's the way a politician words it—and you've seen how a clerk interprets it!”

“I begin to wonder if Chamberlain doesn't fit into the disappearing packets business …”

“No, I'm sure he doesn't,” Yorke said firmly. “He's not dishonest. The phrase that frightened him was Lord Auckland's
‘should you have failed …'
He's scared stiff of what His Lordship would do if he fails—and dreaming of glory if he succeeds. Just imagine the way he'd report that he'd freed you and got the packet back without paying any money. And it's certainly the first—and probably only—time in his life he's been concerned in matters involving the Cabinet.”

“It's the first time for me, too,” Ramage said ruefully.

“I won't flatter you by pointing out the differences in personality,” Yorke said. “But what are we going to do about Kerguelen? I wouldn't blame him if he calls the whole thing off, thanks to Chamberlain's play-acting.”

“I think he's been damned decent up to now. It was a mistake to bring him though.”

“Oh no,” Yorke said emphatically. “Going back on board and telling him he has to wait another couple of weeks would make him suspect some trickery. Why not just haul Chamberlain back, and make him explain it to Kerguelen? Make him sign a letter to Kerguelen, if necessary.”

“Chamberlain would refuse; he'd end up insulting Kerguelen again.”

“Threaten him,” Yorke said flatly. “Tell him you'll report to Lord Spencer exactly what has happened.”

“We can't prove it.”

“We certainly can! Your word and mine—on oath, if need be—against Chamberlain's.”

“All right. I'll try it,” Ramage said reluctantly. “But I'm so damned angry it's as much as I can do to keep my hands off him!”

“I guessed that,” Yorke grinned. “But don't worry—pride is his weak point, and you've just about blunted that!”

Yorke went to the door and shouted peremptorily for the Agent, who came into the room looking as frightened as a schoolboy reporting to the headmaster for a well-deserved and long-anticipated beating.

“Sit down,” Ramage said brusquely. “Now, pick up that letter—Lord Auckland's. Adjust your spectacles and read it aloud slowly, from beginning to end.”

Sheepishly the Agent did so, rushing the final paragraph. Ramage waved a hand. “Too fast; let's have that last paragraph again.”

The Agent took out a handkerchief and mopped his face, and then read it once more.

He glanced up to find Ramage and Yorke staring at him. He looked down and folded the letter, and then arranged the inkwell squarely in front of him. Still neither man spoke, and Chamberlain wriggled in his chair and shut the drawer beside him. He put the letter under a paperweight and rearranged the position of the inkwell. Then he looked up again and found both men still watching him. He tried to smile, but the muscles of his face were frozen.

Then Ramage said, in little more than a whisper, “What were you trying to do, Mr Chamberlain?”

“I thought … it seemed to be best that …”

His voice trailed off and he stared at the heavy inkwell.

Damn the man, Ramage thought; but since he'll never be punished officially for this day's work it'll be worth frightening him. “Curious, Mr Chamberlain, how Lord Auckland seems so concerned about my freedom, isn't it? A mere lieutenant …”

“I haven't thought about it, I must admit.”

“Why don't you, then?”

“Well, I suppose … your father … The Earl of Blazey. A friend of Lord Auckland, perhaps?”

“Of no significance. For months the Prime Minister's nephew was a prisoner in French hands,” Ramage said evenly. “There was no special act of Parliament for him … just a routine exchange.”

“I don't know, then,” the Agent said helplessly.

“Think, then!” Ramage snapped.

Suddenly Chamberlain looked alarmed. “You aren't really concerned with secret Post Office business, are you?”

Ramage just held the man's eyes without speaking, and saw the look of horror spreading over his face. Chamberlain looked away, to find Yorke watching him. He swallowed convulsively as though a hard crust was stuck in his throat.

“How … how was I to know?”

“Because I told you the very first time I came here, but you were so puffed up with your own importance you took no notice. Anyway, there's no excuse for juggling with your orders. Were you expecting me to break my parole, so you could put the money in your own pocket when it arrived and claim the French bolted with it?”

Ramage knew he was being cruel, but the man's meddling might even now result in Kerguelen being too suspicious to wait, so that instead of Ramage reporting to Lord Spencer by word of mouth he'd end up silent in a French prison.

“How dare you!” Chamberlain spluttered. “What a terrible thing to say!”

“But it's a question Lord Auckland might well ask you,” Ramage said relentlessly and, realizing he had frightened the man enough, decided Kerguelen was the next problem. “Well, Mr Chamberlain, you've probably wrecked everything by now: I can't blame Captain Kerguelen if he's decided—thanks to your behaviour—that he's dealing with tricksters and insists we go back on board so that he can sail for France at once.”

“I don't see how you can blame me for—”

“It's irrelevant what I think; Lord Auckland will be the man who sacks you,” Ramage said harshly. “At the moment my only concern is to give you a chance of repairing some of the damage you've done. You are the only one who can.”

“How? In what way?” the Agent asked anxiously, not far from tears.

“Persuade Captain Kerguelen that the money will be forthcoming in a week or two, and that what you said earlier was entirely your own warped invention.”

“How can I!” Chamberlain wailed. “He won't believe anything I say!”

“Very well, then Mr Yorke and I will have to leave as his prisoners: you can inform Lord Auckland that thanks to your handiwork we'll be in France in about ten days' time, and ask him to pass the word to the Admiralty.”

Chamberlain suddenly stood up and scurried to the door. “I'll try,” he muttered, as if talking to himself, and Ramage noticed he had snatched up Lord Auckland's letter.

As soon as the door closed, Ramage asked Yorke, “Am I being too hard on him?”

Yorke sniffed. “I could wring his neck. But what if he can't persuade Kerguelen?”

“We'd better brush up our French. But if he reads him extracts from that letter, it might do the trick.”

“D'you really think so?”

“The letter and perhaps some help from us—if he trusts us an inch, which I doubt. Still, he'll see what a state Chamberlain is in; he's no fool.”

No fool, Ramage reflected. The £2,500 they had offered him must have represented a substantial profit for the Frenchman; a profit without risk. At this moment he was probably trying to balance the unknown risk of staying for £2,500 in sterling against the known risk of making a bolt for France.

The door opened and a worried and perspiring Chamberlain hurried in. “He wants to speak to you.”

“Bring him in, then.”

Kerguelen came in and Ramage gestured him to sit at Chamberlain's desk. The Frenchman looked bewildered but not suspicious.

“I'm sorry about this,” Ramage said. “I hope Mr Chamberlain has explained.”

Kerguelen nodded. “This Lord Auckland …”

“You've seen the letter?”

“This man read from it. Extracts.”

“Very well. Lord Auckland is one of the two Ministers in charge of the Post Office. He has written that after passing an Act of Parliament, the Government will pay the money, and—”

“But when we first arrived here this man”—Kerguelen pointed at Chamberlain—”said he would not pay.”

“This man,” Ramage said contemptuously, “is a clerk who has exceeded his authority and was trying to curry favour with the Minister. He will probably be punished. He misled me, too, until I insisted on seeing Lord Auckland's letter to him. That showed me what this man had done. If you wish to read Lord Auckland's letter, you may do so. Chamberlain, put it on the desk.”

The Agent put it in front of Kerguelen, who pushed it to one side. “Mr Ramage,” he said quietly, “will you give me your word that you truly believe the money will come and I'll be paid without any traps being set?”

“I give you my word,” Ramage said, and gestured to Yorke.

“You have mine, too,” Yorke said.

“And mine,” Chamberlain added eagerly. “In writing, if you wish.”

No one spoke, and Chamberlain flushed.

Ramage stood up. “If we may renew our parole, perhaps we could dine out before returning to the ship. Would you be our guest, Captain?”