Ramage and the Freebooters Read Online Free Page A

possessed, and answer any questions put to you as freely and truthfully as lies within your power. You will take particular care that neither you nor your ship’s company shall inform any other person in Admiral Robinson’s squadron of the state of affairs at Spithead.
    You will then place yourself under the command of Rear-Admiral Robinson, or if he is absent, the senior officer upon the station, for your further proceedings.
     
    Given the 16th day of April 1797.
    Spencer, Arden, Jas. Gambier.
     
    As he was reading the time-honoured phrases, Ramage knew there was a ‘but’. Giving him command of the Triton brig was obviously the Admiralty’s way of privately approving his recent behaviour and equally privately rewarding him for it; but there must be a special reason why he had been selected. The task seemed more appropriate to a frigate commanded by a post-captain.
    ‘Well?’ demanded Spencer.
    ‘Seems straightforward, sir.’
    ‘The Triton’s at Spithead.’
    But every ship of war at Spithead had mutinied: when Admiral Lord Bridport had made the signal to weigh anchor a few days ago, the seamen in some fifteen sail of the line had refused to obey, run up the shrouds and given three cheers. The officers had been sent on shore and ropes had been rove from the foreyardarms, warning that anyone who did not support the mutiny would be hanged.
    At this moment, Ramage reflected, the Admiralty which administered the most powerful Fleet the world had ever seen couldn’t tell a dozen men to row a boat with any hope of its order being obeyed. He laughed involuntarily at the absurdity of it.
    Immediately Spencer’s hands clenched, the knuckles white.
    ‘You find the fact His Majesty’s Fleet at Spithead is in a state of mutiny and complete anarchy a laughing matter, Ramage?’
    ‘No, sir!’ he added hastily. ‘It’s just that I seem doomed to get commands in – er, unusual – circumstances. The Sibella was under attack and sinking when I had to take command as the only surviving officer. My first task after being given my first official command, the Kathleen cutter, was to rescue the crew of a frigate aground and under enemy fire. Then I lost the Kathleen at the Battle of Cape St Vincent. Now – if you’ll forgive me for saying so, my Lord – my next command is a brig whose crew has mutinied!’
    Spencer smiled and for a moment said nothing. Yes, the lad was like his father. Face on the thin side, high cheekbones, eyes deep-set under thick eyebrows, nose straight, not quite aquiline. By no means handsome but, as his wife had remarked a couple of evenings ago at the ball, there was something about the lad that made him stand out among the hundred or so men present. Hard to define why – he wasn’t tall; in fact he was quite average. Slim hips, wide shoulders and an arrogant walk. No, Spencer thought, not arrogant as much as confident. Habit of rubbing that old scar over his brow – as he was doing this very minute – when he was worried. Had trouble pronouncing the letter ‘r’ when he got excited – he’d just say ‘bwig’ for ‘brig’.
    Spencer forgot the mutiny as he studied Ramage, realizing a lot would depend on the lad’s character over the next few weeks. Next few hours, in fact. No, it wasn’t the face or the stance, nor the physique or the voice… At that moment Ramage glanced up nervously and Spencer saw that part of it was the eyes. He realized they could express the same menace or defiance as the muzzles of a pair of pistols. And looking into them you could no more guess his thoughts than you could see the lead shot in the pistols’ barrels.
    Yet you didn’t see those eyes across the length of a ballroom. What was it then? It was like glancing up at the night sky – a few stars out of the millions visible caught the eye, for no apparent reason. Spencer finally admitted he couldn’t define it, though it was clear why Ramage’s men were devoted to him: he combined a decisive manner