Ramage's Trial (28 page)

Of Gianna
–
what a sad letter this is
–
we also have no news. Perhaps that is as well: we must prepare ourselves for the worst. We can be sure Bonaparte's men caught her, and he is a man without mercy.

 

The letter went on to give family news: Ramage's mother had spent most of the summer down at St Kew; the Marquis spent most of his time now in London, hoping for news of Sarah, and like the rest of the family eagerly awaiting Nicholas' return.

Ramage was just reading the final sentence when the Marine sentry outside the cabin door announced that the first lieutenant wished to see him, and Ramage called briefly: “Send him in.”

Aitken, hat tucked under his arm, stood in front of Ramage's desk. “Another boat has come off from the shore and is heading for us, sir,” he said, so lugubriously that quite unexpectedly it made Ramage feel cheerful.

“It'll be bringing a lieutenant
–
maybe even just a midshipman
–
with another letter for me, this time from the deputy judge advocate.”

“The deputy judge advocate?” Aitken repeated, as though he might have misheard: in fact was sure he had.

“Yes
–
telling me the date of my trial, in which ship it will be held and asking for a list of my witnesses.”

Aitken swallowed, and was obviously puzzled by Ramage's jocular manner. “So there's going to be a trial, sir?”

“My goodness yes! A mad captain and Rear-Admiral Goddard together in the same port are (for us) one of those unhappy coincidences, like a spark in a powder magazine. A bag of powder and a spark alone are each harmless, but put them together…”

“You don't seem very worried, sir,” Aitken said, the relief showing on his face.

“I'm accused under–” he glanced at the Board's letter, “–under six of the Articles of War.” He had read them out to his ship's company scores of times, as required by Admiralty Instructions, but he still had to recite them to himself by rote. “Only a few of them carry a mandatory death sentence.”

Aitken said bitterly: “There's something wicked afoot when you're in more danger of death on board one of the King's ships than you ever were capturing the French frigates at Devil's Island, or rescuing those people from the renegades at Trinidade, or escaping the guillotine in France, or–”

“Aitken,” Ramage said, dropping the usual “Mister” and indicating that the remark was man to man, not captain to first lieutenant, “we've set off on some adventures where our chances of survival were not very great. But I can't recall you ever standing there with a face as long as a yard of cold pump water saying: ‘Sir, we're all
doomed
!'” He tried to give his voice the depth and emphasis of a Scottish cleric. “In fact, I always have the feeling that facing death cheers you up!”

“Ah, but there's a difference,” Aitken said. “Then we went off knowing we all shared the risks. This time, you're on your own, sir. Every shot will be aimed at you alone.”

There was a shout from on deck, and Aitken said: “If you'll excuse me sir, it sounds as though that boat has arrived.”

The lieutenant on board had indeed brought another letter for Ramage and when Aitken brought it in Ramage told him to sit down for a few minutes.

Ramage then opened the letter
–
sealed this time by a wafer with the glue still wet
–
and nodded. “Yes, here's the deputy judge advocate. They aren't wasting much time!”

“But why is Captain Shirley charging you? You ought to be bringing
him
to trial!”

“He's senior, so he gets first whack!” Ramage grinned and then tapped the papers on his desk. “I haven't read his letter yet, but Their Lordships have sent me a copy of his complaint. I'll read it in a moment. Let's first see what the deputy judge advocate has to say.”

The deputy judge advocate wrote in the stylized way laid down in the manuals:

 

The Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty having ordered Vice Admiral Sir James Bustard to assemble a court-martial to try Captain the Lord Ramage, and it being intended that I shall officiate as deputy judge advocate upon the occasion at the said court-martial, which is to be held on board the
Salvador del Mundo
at Plymouth on Monday next, at nine o'clock in the morning; I send you herewith a copy of the order for the trial on yourself [Ramage noted that the deputy judge advocate had forgotten to enclose it] and am to desire you will be pleased to transmit me a list of the officers and men belonging to the
Calypso
who are in this port, and of such persons, as you may think proper to call to give evidence in your favour, that they might be summoned to attend accordingly.

 

He passed the letter to Aitken. “You've probably never read one of those letters before. Consider it part of your education.”

While the Scotsman read the letter, Ramage read Captain Shirley's asking for a court-martial. It was addressed to Sir James Bustard
–
did they know each other, or did Shirley know Sir James was the port admiral? Anyway, Sir James must have forwarded it to the Admiralty (by one of the special messengers who left for London every evening on horseback, passing on the way similar messengers who left the Admiralty every evening).

Shirley's letter was well written and set out his complaint clearly and Ramage admitted ruefully to himself that both Sir James and the Board, reading the letter, would have no hesitation in ordering a court-martial.

Shirley began by referring to his orders and giving the date he left Barbados. He referred to sighting the
Calypso
as she bore northwards for England, and then went on to relate how the
Calypso
had come alongside, using grapnels. Her men, led by an officer later identified as Captain Ramage, had then boarded the
Jason
and Captain Ramage had taken command…

Shirley explained that he had recognized the
Calypso
and seen that she was escorting a convoy, so he was completely unprepared for such an attack. Captain Ramage had then removed him from his command, giving no reason, put one of his lieutenants on board and ordered the lieutenant, by name Wagstaffe, to keep station astern of the convoy and to leeward of the
Calypso
. The
Jason
had been forced to comply with these orders until near the Lizard, when the
Jason
's commanding officer (Ramage allowed himself a wry smile at this description: Wagstaffe's version would, no doubt, be quite different) had managed to crowd on sail, ignoring Wagstaffe, and arrived in Plymouth safely. Shirley went on to say that Captain Ramage had given no explanation for his actions, although when he first boarded the
Jason
he was warned at once that his behaviour was in defiance of certain Articles of War, which were cited.

However, Captain Ramage had only laughed in reply and said he had a large convoy to defend and a long way to go with not enough frigates, so the
Jason
was needed to help. “I warned him that he would be called to account once the convoy arrived in Britain,” Shirley wrote, “but he just laughed like a madman. His behaviour at all times while on board the
Jason
,” Shirley added artfully, “was such as to raise very serious doubts about his sanity, and had the
Jason
's surgeon not, unfortunately died a week or so earlier, the surgeon would have been instructed to examine Captain Ramage to ascertain his fitness for command of the
Calypso
and advise me what steps were necessary to ensure that the King's Service should be properly carried out.”

Ramage sighed because it was a clever letter. No wonder Sir James sent it straight on to the Admiralty, and no wonder Their Lordships promptly ordered a trial. Their Lordships must be shaking their heads and saying, yes, young Ramage has done splendid service in the past, but one of those wounds
–
perhaps that glancing musket ball that caught his head at Curacao (and where the hair growing round the scar was always a tiny white tuft)
–
had finally put him in a position where he was no longer responsible for his actions.

Well, the Board were not at fault: they did not know Shirley was mad. They might not know about the sycophantic Goddard, either. But he and the Yorkes were mistaken in thinking that the advantage would be with the writer of the second letter to reach the Admiralty: Their Lordships must have already ordered his trial before his letter had gone on shore.

“This deputy judge advocate hasn't wasted much time,” Aitken commented.

“No, they give me enough time to read the Admiralty's letter and Shirley's complaint, and then the deputy judge advocate's letter arrives with the wafer still wet. Seems more like malice over at the port admiral's office rather than the efficiency of his staff.”

“We can anticipate some more pettiness, I expect,” Aitken commented. “I must make sure our boats' crews obey all the port regulations when they go on shore. Luckily Southwick brought back a copy of the Plymouth ‘Port Orders', so we can carry out flag signals promptly. Thank goodness we are not having any work done in the Dockyards
–
the ‘Daily Report' on progress has twenty-five headings and a ‘Remarks' column, so a dockyard commissioner can always find fault somewhere and complain to the admiral.”

“Yes, we're all going to have to tread carefully. I'm sorry I've made it difficult for everyone.”

“Captain Shirley, not you, sir,” Aitken corrected. “Now, sir, can I help you draw up that list of witnesses?”

Ramage thought for a few moments. “I'd prefer you to draw up a separate list, then we can compare them: that way, we're less likely to forget anyone. And listen, Aitken, think about this. They
–
Shirley and his cronies
–
seem to be in a hurry. There might be some reason, or it might just be the excitement of the chase. We can't slow up the proceedings (anyway I don't want to prolong all this nonsense), but let's see if we can't find some advantage in it, too.”

Aitken nodded his head slowly. “Aye, I take your meaning, sir. They're up to windward of us, but we must try and make that to our advantage.”

Ramage saw no reason why he had to be discreet in the present situation. “If you're unarmed and a man suddenly attacks you with a knife, I reckon you're justified in using unorthodox methods to defend yourself. ‘Turning the other cheek' doesn't help!”

Aitken grinned for the first time that day. “Aye, I like that word ‘unorthodox'
–
it has a pleasant unorthodox ring about it!”

After Aitken left the cabin, Ramage read through all the letters again. His defence. Well, all he had was the truth, though that might not count for much if Admiral Goddard was president of the court.

Time…yes, time was an enemy because he had no time to get his father and the Marquis to work at persuading Lord St Vincent to transfer the trial to, say, Portsmouth, with another president. But the more he thought about that
–
realizing it would take ten days or a fortnight to get a letter to London and the reply back to Plymouth
–
the more he understood how they were weighed down with Sarah's disappearance.

His father's letter made it clear that there was no news and how despondent they were. The Marquis must be distraught: he and Sarah were very close.

Now, burdened with worry over Sarah, it would crush them all to find Sarah's husband was in grave danger from the Articles of War. A week or more
–
the trial should be all over before news reached London. That decided him: no appeal to his father for help
–
the old man had suffered enough when that past government put him on trial
–
and no appeal to the Marquis. He would fight with the weapons he had. It did not do to think too much about the calibre of those!

 

Ramage and Sidney Yorke stood by the entryport as the chair with Alexis in it was hoisted up from the boat, swung inboard and gently lowered until it was just in front of Ramage. As Jackson and Stafford held it steady, Ramage stepped forward to flip back the wooden bar which held her secure, helped her step out on to the deck and, as Jackson swung the chair back out of the way, saluted her gravely. She curtseyed. “Good day, Captain, I trust my brother has already asked if our visit is discommoding you?”

“He has indeed.”

“And what was your answer?”

Ramage was still standing close enough to her that by dropping his voice only she could hear his reply. “That your visit was very ill-timed because I was sitting in my cabin so miserable that I was thinking of doing away with myself!”

She laughed and said in a normal tone: “Oh good, as long as we have not interrupted anything of importance!”

With them seated in the cabin, Yorke said as soon as the sentry had shut the door: “We have been hearing a rumour.”

“It is probably true. What does it say?”

“Leave the rumour for the moment. We have just heard officially that the convoy sails tomorrow with the London, Hull and Leith ships, and you are not named as the commander of the escort, nor is the
Calypso
mentioned.”

When Ramage nodded, Yorke continued: “The rumour
–
which I don't mind telling you is upsetting all the masters considerably
–
is that you are being court-martialled at the instance of the captain of the
Jason
.”

Ramage pointed at the papers on his desk. “That's not a rumour, I'm afraid. The Admiralty has ordered the trial and the date is already fixed
–
for the beginning of next week.”

“But…but what about witnesses?” Alexis said angrily. “All the convoy will have sailed and the masters want to give evidence on your behalf!”