Ramage And The Rebels

Steady, Ramage told himself, bundling up the letters, and realizing that Jackson would have recognized her, this way lies madness: this was how young captains, isolated by the routine and tradition of command, became eccentric, even mad: they sat alone and in their cabins, brooded, thinking this and fearing that, playing the eternal game of 'if. 'If this had happened, that would have been avoided ... if I had done this ...' The worst of the 'if game was, of course, that it was very easy for a captain to lose confidence in himself: as he read his orders he could, without much difficulty, consider them far more difficult to carry out than they were, and then he would find himself wondering what would happen 'if he failed.

The next stage after that was wondering 'if he would succeed, and once he stepped into that quicksand he was lost; he would fail no matter what happened. That was the one lesson that Ramage had learned about command, dating back to the time when Commodore Nelson - as he then was - first gave him command of the little Kathleen cutter and put Southwick in as master.

Those first orders from the Commodore had been desperate enough, but looking back on them Ramage realized that, young and inexperienced as he was, he had not really thought of failure. There hadn't been time enough to consider it. The important thing was to avoid brooding. Keep your mind occupied - it could be a thick head from drinking too much wine at a reception the night before, or perhaps you were too preoccupied because the ship's company was badly trained - it could be any one of a hundred things, but you were too busy to think of failure, and often because of that you succeeded. Or perhaps you failed, but failed because success was impossible, not because you had gone into battle defeated by your own dark thoughts and lack of confidence.

At that moment Ramage acknowledged yet again how much he owed to Southwick. The old man had served with him for years, always the same, always cheerful, yet always grumbling. Cheerfully grumbling about the ship's company, whichever the ship and however well trained the men, but treating them all like unruly but much loved sons. And, of course, it was not just Southwick: there were those scoundrels Jackson, Stafford and Rossi.

Defeat, failure, even difficulties were hard to consider for long with those men around. Jackson, for example, an American who had an American Protection in his pocket and need only get word to an American consul to secure his discharge from the Royal Navy - but instead he was the captain's coxswain, a man who had saved Gia

The three men argued interminably, although they never quarrelled; they had - Ramage thought for a moment - yes, they had been in the frigate that sank in battle as they went to fetch Gia

Now, to their delight, they had on board the Marchesa's nephew (or, as Stafford had proudly a

Supposing the boy was killed - how would he ever tell Gia

Ramage called to the Marine sentry to pass the word for his clerk, and as soon as the report and the list of names and addresses were handed over to the man for fair copies to be made, Ramage sent for Aitken. The first lieutenant was second in command of the ship; it was very easy to forget (or, more honestly, it was a thought that few captains cared to dwell upon) that Aitken would be in command if anything happened to the captain, and captains were as likely to perish from yellow fever or roundshot as any man on board . . .

The captain was brooding, there was no doubt about that. Aitken sensed it the moment he stepped into the cabin and sat on the settee in response to the captain's gesture. The deep - set eyes seemed positively sunken, yet one didn't need the second sight to guess why the captain was in this mood. There were plenty of men in the Highlands who still brooded over the rapine and pillaging of their villages half a century earlier, when they were still bairns, so it was hardly surprising to find a man like Mr Ramage brooding over that bloody murder in the Tranquil only an hour or so ago.

Now Mr Ramage was staring at him, as though he was a stranger.

'Do the ship's company know what happened in the Tranquil?' It was a puzzling question; there was no way it could have been kept secret, even if it was necessary. 'Yes, sir, they all know.'

'And what are their feelings?'

'Violent, sir, particularly because of the women. We might . . .'

'Might what, Aitken?'

"We might have difficulty controlling them if we find a privateer, sir. If we board one, I mean.'

But instead of getting angry and saying the officers should be able to control their men, Mr Ramage was just nodding; not in agreement but in the way old men nodded their heads when told interesting news.

Aitken was thankful for this opportunity to discuss it 'I was going to mention it to you, sir: perhaps you'd care to talk to the ship's company, to warn them against ru

The young Scot sensed the captain's interest was flagging, and was then not sure whether to be shocked or relieved when Ramage said: 'I propose giving no particular orders if we board a privateer called the Nuestra Senora de Antigua, Mr Aitken. We board other privateers in the normal way and I shall expect that strict attention will be paid to discipline.'

'Aye aye, sir. But no mercy for the Nuestra Senora de Antigua. Is she the one that. . .'

'Yes, she's named in a letter. The last line or two was written as she came close.'

Aitken reached for his hat and was about to leave the cabin, but the captain waved him to remain seated, and said quietly: 'I think you too sense there's something unusual in ill this.'