Ramage 13 - Ramage's Devil by Dudley Pope

Author:Dudley Pope
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-04-26T23:00:00+00:00

been damaged.

Suddenly his head came level with the deck and a moment later he was through the entryport, standing on the deck itself and staring into the muzzle of a pistol held by a man he had never seen before but who was wearing the uniform of a post-captain. He had a single epaulet, showing he had less than three years' seniority,Ramagenoticed inconsequentially.

'Stop!' the man bellowed. He was young, stocky, with a round face mottled with-was it anger?

The pistol in his right hand was beautifully made, the barrel damascened, the silver and goldtracery of inlaid patterns catching the sun. The silver tankard in his left hand also had an intricate design worked all round it. And the man, who seemed too excited to string together a coherent sentence, took a pace forward as Swan stepped on deck.

'Stop, both of you!' He gestured with both hands as though shooing a hen back into her coop, andan amber liquid spilled from the tankard.

'Yousee, pirates! Look at him, asans-culotte !A Republican pirate.And the other one...'he paused, catching his breath and then unexpectedly took a long drink from the tankard.'...He's wearing the...theKing's uniform..."

Ramagesaw that the speech was becoming more slurred and the man's eyes were glazing. The man- Ramageguessed it must be Bullivant-turned and pointed.Ramagerecognized the lieutenant in Marine's uniform as Renwick, now white-faced, fear showing in the way the lips were drawn back.Ramagehad seen Renwick facing broadsides, muskets fired at close range, pistols from a few feet, dodging the slash of cutlasses, but the Marine officer always grinned because he loved battle.Fear? A moment later he realized why.

'Shoot these men!' Bullivant screamed. 'Come on, you have your file of Marines ready!The devil's work...that's what these French swine are doing...'His speech was slowing andRamageglanced round.

There they all were, in a circle of men with fear on their faces: Aitken, the Scots first lieutenant, Wagstaffe, the red-haired and freckle-faced Kenton, his face red and peeling from the effect of wind and sun, young Martin, the fourth lieutenant, and old Southwick, his white mop of hair as usual trying to escape his hat and suddenly remindingRamageof straw sticking out from under a nesting hen. And Paolo, his normally sallow face now white, his hooked nose bloodless, as though he was some young Italian model for a Botticelli painting.

ThenRamagesaw that every one of the men on deck, seamen and Marines, was watching him, horrified by Bullivant's words. Renwick was making no move. The sergeant of Marines stood firm. Yes, they must be thinking, their old captain has by some magic come back, dressed as a French fisherman, and their new captain has just given orders to shoot him.

Now the signal for the physician of the fleet made sense: Bullivant had been driven mad by drink and presumably Aitkenhad hoisted that signal at a time when Bullivant could not see it-when he was below.

Where was the surgeon, Bowen? Even asRamageglanced round once again, he saw the surgeon coming up the companionway, carrying a big flask. Now everyone was

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