Read Ramage for Free Online Page B

shouted the order into the darkness.
    At last he could read the orders to the Sibella ’s late captain: he had been burning with curiosity from the time the oarsmen had settled into a steady rhythm and given him time to think.
    ‘The lantern, Jackson, and keep it shielded with the canvas, I want to read something.’
    Pulling the linen envelope from his pocket, Ramage took out the sheet of paper and smoothed it. The letter had been written on board the Victory on September 1, a week earlier, and was an order from Admiral Sir John Jervis, KB, telling the Sibella’ s late captain, in neat and flowing script:

‘Whereas I have received information that following the French occupation of Leghorn and other towns inland, several leading members of influential families in Tuscany sympathetic to our cause have succeeded in escaping and made their way southward to the coast off Capalbio, from whence they have requested assistance, you are, therefore, hereby required and directed to proceed with all possible despatch in His Majesty’s ship Sibella under your command, off Capalbio, taking care that your intentions should not become known to anyone on shore.’

    So that was what brought them down here… Ramage turned over the page and continued reading.

‘You will then under the cover of night send a party on shore to the fortified tower situated between Lake Burano and the shore and commonly known as “Torre Buranaccio”, and take off the party of refugees, believed to be six in number, and who are named in the margin.
‘From the information I have received, the Tower is not in use by the Neapolitan troops, nor occupied by the French (who are known to have passed through the area); and the refugees have arranged that a charcoal burner, whose name they have omitted to communicate to me but whose hut is one half a mile southward along the beach from the tower and five hundred yards inland, shall be kept informed of their whereabouts.
‘Since negotiations will have to be carried on in the native language, the landing party should be under the command of Lieutenant Nicholas Ramage in virtue of his knowledge of the Italian language.
‘Great importance is attached to the safety and well-being of these refugees in view of the influence they can command on the Italian mainland; and as soon as they and any others with them are safely embarked in His Majesty’s frigate under your command, you are to make the best of your way to Rendezvous Number Seven, where you will find one of His Majesty’s ships whose commanding officer will give you further orders for your subsequent proceedings.’

    Hmm, thought Ramage, considering the length of the letter and details, ‘Old Jarvie’ really means what he says about the importance of these people: he was notorious for the brevity of his orders.
    Ramage folded the letter and put it back in his pocket. As orders for the Sibella ’s late captain, they were simple enough; but for his successor they presented difficulties undreamed of when dictated by Sir John, who was the strictest disciplinarian on the flag list. Ramage realized he did not even know where Rendezvous Number Seven was…
    A sudden kick on the shin stopped his reverie.
    ‘Sorry, sir,’ said Jackson, ‘I’m getting cramp in my leg.’
    Ramage knew the men were waiting expectantly. Well, let them wait.
    What must he do? What would the Admiral expect him to do? What would the Sibella ’s late captain, cremated a few moments ago, have done if he were sitting here in the launch’s stern sheets?
    He could ask the opinions of the senior men, showing them the order: hold a council of war, in fact. But his pride prevented that and anyway his father had once said – ‘Nicholas, my boy: if you ever want to achieve anything in the Service, never call a council of war.’ Yet when the old boy had acted on his own advice, Ramage thought bitterly, look what had happened…
    Then in his imagination he saw, for a fleeting second, a group