CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

It was a few minutes past nine in the morning when the surgeon's mate sitting beside Ramage's cot saw that his eyes were open and called to the Marine sentry: 'Pass the word for Mr Bowen an' tell him the captain's awake.'

Bowen arrived almost immediately, and grinned when he saw Ramage watching him.

'How's the patient feeling?'

'My arm hurts like hell, I feel dizzy, and I can still taste that dam' soup you made me drink. It was too hot and it burned my tongue.'

'Your recovery has obviously started, sir,' Bowen announced, feeling under Ramage's armpit. 'Ha, no swelling there. No more than the pain you'd expect in the arm. No throbbing?'

'No, it just aches,' Ramage said grudgingly. 'The pain of those stitches has gone.'

'An excellent piece of embroidery, if I may be allowed to boast. Two weeks and I'll be taking them out and you'll be admiring a handsome scar which will impress the ladies.'

'Yes, I shall parade through the drawing rooms in a ruffled shirt with the sleeve rolled up. Now, call Silkin: I'm going to wash, he can shave me and help me dress, and then you can rig up a sling.'

Bowen shook his head. 'You must stay in your cot for at least three days. You've lost a lot of blood, which the body must make up. Exsanguinated, that's what you are, sir, and it means -'

'I can work it out, and I hate your medical terms. Pass the word for Silkin, please and -'

'Sir, I must insist that you -'

Ramage's eyes narrowed and Bowen stopped talking; one did not insist when the captain was in this mood.

'Bowen,' he said, 'I appreciate your concern, but let us keep a sense of proportion. I have a minor flesh wound and have lost some blood and feel a trifling dizziness. Spurgeon is dead. That's the very small price we have paid so far to rescue forty men, women and children hostages. We have two dozen privateersmen under guard in the four prizes we have captured. There is a fifth prize but she has no passengers - only two or three privateersmen on board as shipkeepers.'

Ramage struggled and sat up in the cot, making it swing with the effort, and holding his bandaged left arm with his right hand.

'However, all we've done up to now is grab the animal's tail. The head, with a mouthful of sharp teeth, is still there at anchor. The Lynx still has enough men and boats to recapture the prizes the moment she realizes we've taken them.'

Bowen nodded. 'I understand that, sir. We have to deal with the Lynx.'

'Exactly. And this morning. Any moment now they might discover what we've done.'

'I appreciate that, sir, but surely Wagstaffe and Southwick -'

'Bowen! Can you picture me lying here while all that's going on?'

'Well, sir ... I'm only advising...'

'For my own good. Yes, thank you. Very well, now, pass the word for Silkin!'

It took half an hour to get Ramage washed, shaved and dressed, and Bowen then spent fifteen minutes with squares of nankeen cut off from the roll kept by the purser, making a sling for the wounded arm. While an impatient and cursing Ramage tried to hurry the surgeon, Silkin bobbed between them, trying to make his captain drink hot tea and eat a softboiled egg which had been spread on a piece of ship's biscuit.

Finally Ramage sat at his desk, his arm resting on the flat surface and his face pale and wet with perspiration, his hand shaky and his knees only doubtfully reliable.

'So the survey boats and the one doing the soundings went off as usual?' he asked Wagstaffe.

'Yes, sir. One of the young seamen wore a hat and jacket of Martin's, and that painter fellow Wilkins wore one of my coats and hats today and went on shore with the surveyors.'

'Wilkins? What on earth for?'

'He mentioned something about the Lynx being so close to the beach. He took notebooks and sticks of charcoal with him.'

'Does he want to sketch the Lynx then?'

Wagstaffe looked away and said noncommittally: 'I think he had in mind that - well, he wants to do a painting of the Calypso capturing the Lynx, and he'd get the best view from the beach: the Lynx is barely a hundred yards out.'

Ramage thought for a moment and then realized that almost the last place for an artist to be would be on board the Calypso.

'How many men are we short?'

'Twenty-two are away in the prizes (Orsini, Jackson and Rossi came back with you last night, sir: Bowen needed help to hold the chair upright across the thwarts). Twenty-four in the survey and sounding boats: forty-six men, and Aitken, Kenton and Martin. I didn't send Orsini off in the soundings boat this morning.'

'Why?'

'He was rather concerned about you, sir, and until you woke . . .'

'Orsini is simply another member of the ship's company. Remember that, Mr Wagstaffe.'

'Aye aye, sir,' the second lieutenant said, thankful that it had passed off so easily. The boy was sure the captain was going to die, and that combined with the knowledge that both men were very worried about the Marchesa had made him agree that Orsini could stay on board. But the way things were going, the Calypso was not going to be the best place to spend the day . . .

'Now listen carefully,' Ramage said. 'First things first. The captain must be comfortable. I want that armchair from the Earl of Dodsworth put down on the larboard side of the binnacle box, where I can sight the compass.'

Both Southwick and Wagstaffe laughed with him, and the lieutenant said: 'I knew that chair would come in useful! The bosun was proposing to heave it overboard!'

'Now,' Ramage continued, his voice becoming serious. 'Guns on both sides loaded with grape but not run out, of course. Decks wetted and sanded, but make sure no one from the Lynx can guess what's going on by seeing water pouring out of the scuppers or spot the washdeck pump rigged ... I want the lashing on the bitter end of the anchor cable untied down in the cabletier, so that we can let it all run out: I don't want to lose time and make a noise cutting the cable with an axe -'

'Can I buoy it, sir?' asked Southwick. 'Seems a pity to lose an anchor and a new cable.'

'Yes, by all means. Men to have arms listed for them in the Watch, Station and Quarters bill, but again, make sure no one is seen from the Lynx marching round wearing a cutlass. Leave the grindstone down below! But make sure the topmen have sharp knives - I want those gaskets cut: don't waste time untying them. The sails must be let fall and sheeted home and the yards braced in moments, not minutes.'

He paused as a wave of dizziness made the cabin tilt, and for a few moments he could not understand why both Wagstaffe and Southwick were sitting horizontally, but after a few deep breaths it passed.

Southwick then took a deep breath, as though he was going to dive over the side. 'That chair, sir. Supposing we put it right aft, on the larboard side against the taffrail, then you'd -'

'- be out of the way of the quartermaster and not such a target for sharpshooters in the Lynx,' Ramage said.

'Well, sir, that's quite true; a sitting target, if there ever was one,' the master said, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was offended.

'What time do we start, sir?' Wagstaffe asked tactfully.

'We can start as though we intend airing sails. Send four or five topmen aloft to let fall the foretopsail, untying the gaskets; but make sure the maintopsail and mizentopsail gaskets are cut. That'll save us a few minutes.'

'The Marines, sir?'

'Is Renwick on board?'

'Yes, sir: I stopped him going on shore with the surveyors. All the Marines are on board.'

'Very well, they will be sharpshooters, but must dress as seamen. That man Hart will suspect something if he sees groups of Marines in uniform.'

'And the prisoners we take, sir: there may be several British. I suppose they'd be different from prisoners of war?'