Ramage's Devil by Dudley Pope Page A

château and a corvette which was anchored close by was sent out to investigate. She returned with the English brig following, only now the white flag had been replaced by the
Tricolore.
    â€œIf you want my opinion, milord”—he paused politely until Ramage nodded—”the brig had already surrendered, but the corvette met her before she started coming into
Le Goulet
and put men on board and claimed to have captured her. That way they get a reward.”
    They must be optimists, Ramage thought. The British Admiralty courts were notoriously fussy and the agents corrupt when awarding prize-money, and he doubted if Bonaparte’s navy even bothered with prize courts. The corvette had been sent out to check up on a vessel already flying a white flag which traditionally meant surrender or truce. He raised his eyebrows in another variation of prodding Gilbert to continue.
    â€œThis English brig now flying the
Tricolore
over the English colours, and with her guns still—how do you say, withdrawn, not in place for firing …”
    â€œNot run out.”
    â€œAh, yes. This brig is anchored in front of the château and many important men—including the
préfet maritime
and Admiral Bruix, the
commandant de l’Armée navale—
are rowed out to the ship. They stay about an hour, and then after they return the crew of the
Murex—
her name can be read from the shore you understand—are brought on shore and given accommodation in the château, while French sailors are taken out to guard the rest.”
    â€œThe rest of what?”
    â€œWell, the officers, and a few seamen,” Gilbert said, clearly surprised at Ramage’s question.
    â€œBut why are the officers and a few seamen being left on board? Who were the men brought on shore and lodged in the château?”
    â€œWhy, they are the mutineers, of course!” Gilbert said. “The officers and the seamen who did not mutiny are kept on board as prisoners of war. That,” he amended cautiously, “is how Estelle understood it from Henri.”
    The ship’s company of the
Murex
brig mutinying within a few days—almost hours—of the resumption of war and carrying the ship into Brest to hand her over to the French? Ramage looked at Sarah, as if appealing to her to assure him that he had misheard. She stared at the floor, obviously stunned.
    Who commanded the brig? He could be a lieutenant—almost certainly would be. The
Murex
would probably have left Plymouth or Portsmouth before war began. Most likely she was based on the Channel Islands.
    But what caused a mutiny? The mutinies at the Nore and Spithead had brought better conditions for the navy and he had heard no murmurs of discontent since then. There was occasional loose talk of malcontents among Irish seamen; a few captains also complained of the activities of the London Corresponding Society, which some had blamed for the Nore and Spithead affairs, but the subsequent inquiry had produced no proof.
    A mutiny in a single ship, Ramage felt instinctively, was the captain’s fault. Either he was too harsh (like the late and unlamented Hugh Pigot, commanding the
Hermione
) or he was too slack, failing to notice troublemakers at work among the ship’s company. The troublemakers did not have to be revolutionaries: far from it. There were always men who genuinely enjoyed stirring up trouble without a cause and without a purpose, and they usually became seamen or Members of Parliament, depending on their background. Either way, they talked shrilly without any sense of responsibility, like truculent whores at a window.
    The
Murex.
Ideas drifted through his mind like snowflakes across a window—and, he admitted sourly, they had about as much weight. He looked up at Gilbert and smiled. “Don’t look so sad: now’s the time to plot and scheme, not despair!”
    The Frenchman shook his head sadly. “We need a company