Ramage’s Mutiny

 And that, Ramage thought, is all we know about La Guaira, and entirely due to Southwick's habit of filling notebooks with details of places whenever he could find someone who had been there. It was the main port of the province of Caracas, and (in more peaceful times) fresh water could be obtained from a small reservoir which had been made some five hundred feet above the town by damming up a river. Southwick's notebook added that the main exports were cocoa, coffee, hides, dyewood and medicinal roots. A "particular cargo" comprising those mundane items and captured only by risking the Jocasta would make Admiral Davis explode with more flame and violence than had destroyed El Pilar . . .

 Re

 The Marines to wear seamen's clothes, Ramage reflected, is about all I have decided about how we are going to cut out this merchant ship. Re

 His plan at the moment was to haul down that Spanish ensign as soon as possible; the sooner the Jocasta was sailing under her proper colours the better, although for the time being, to avoid raising the alarm, because they were now rarely a mile from the shore, the red and gold flag of Spain was streaming in the wind. The frigate was still La Perla as far as the Spaniards were concerned - at least at this end of the Main.

 Everyone on board was cheerful enough - except Paolo. Since the funeral services he had been taking many vertical angles of every peak that Southwick clapped eyes on and had the height noted on the chart. Ramage doubted if Paolo's book of tables had ever been used so much as it had in the past hour or two. The Master was being deliberately harsh with the boy, begi

 Now half a dozen seamen were hoisting up the grindstone: after the fighting across the Jocasta's decks there were many cutlasses with nicks in the blades which would have to be ground out, and Ramage shuddered at the thought of having to listen to the scraping once again. The cook would come up on deck soon, a

 Once again Ramage looked along the line of mountains. He had never seen a shoreline so constantly beaten by rollers; there was always a jagged line of boiling surf thundering into the foot of the cliffs, flinging up fine spray which hung as a heavy mist, blurring the slots and crevices. Yesterday he had occasionally seen small boats inshore, fishermen from the villages built wherever there was a gap in the cliffs or where a bend in the coast formed a sheltered bay and gave them a lee. They must be hardy men, working under a blazing sun with a heavy sea ru

 The Jocasta was making a fast passage: with this soldier's wind the hourly cast of the log showed she was making an effortless ten knots. During the night he had expected the stunsails to carry away at times as occasional but brief gusts came up astern without warning.

 The Main was a strange and unpredictable coast, and he wished he had sailed it before. This curious light over the mountains, for instance: as the sun came up it had not washed the peaks in its usual pinkness; instead it had cast a cold, almost whitish light, bringing with it an almost frightening clarity and throwing harsh, sharp-edged shadows. Every crack and crevice, valley and distant precipice showed up in the telescope as though it was only five miles away, instead of twenty. In contrast, there had been a haze yesterday which, up in the Leeward and Windward Islands, always warned of strong winds to come. Now today there was this clearness. It could mean anything or nothing. Southwick's notebook referred to calderetas sweeping down from the mountains, but gave no further details. Still, if they occurred only once or twice in a year there was no reason to suppose they would bother the Jocasta . . .

 He was getting jumpy; it was as simple as that. He had been lucky at Santa Cruz and if he had had any sense he would be on his way back to English Harbour. Instead he was bound for La Guaira, commanding - as far as any onlooker was concerned - His Most Catholic Majesty's frigate La Perla. Only another dozen miles to go; already Pico Avila was looming up high, towering over La Guaira just as Pico de Santa Fe stood at the back of Santa Cruz.

 He looked down at his clothes. Providing he did not wear a hat, they were similar enough to the Spanish naval uniform. Southwick, with his chubby face and flowing white hair, would hardly pass for a Spaniard but, he told himself, people usually saw what they expected to see: at La Guaira they were waiting for Captain Velasquez to arrive in La Perla . . .

 Southwick walked up to report on his inspection: "The tiller ropes are sound, sir, and so are the relieving tackles. Hardly a new rope in the ship but nothing needs changing. Just as well, since there isn't a spare coil anywhere. We might get some from the Calypso when we meet her."

 "Very well. We'd better start getting ready for entering La Guaira."

 Southwick eyed him curiously. "Aye, aye, sir. We'll be anchoring?"

 "I don't know yet, but the Spaniards will be expecting us to, so we have to have everything ready."

 "The men at quarters?"

 "Yes, but hidden below the bulwarks. Guns loaded but not run out and boarders standing by."

 Southwick obviously had many more questions to ask, but he nodded and said: "Very well, sir, I'll see to it."

 Aitken, as First Lieutenant, had to know what was going on, and Ramage walked aft to where he was standing near the bi

 By now the grindstone was hard at work, one man working the handle, another pouring water into the trough through which the bottom of the stone turned, and a third moving the blade of a cutlass across the spi