Governor Ramage R. N. by Dudley Pope Read Free Book Online

Goddard.
    â€œHe is not a gentlemen,” St Cast said, his jowls quivering. “Despite—”
    St Brieuc interrupted so smoothly that it took Ramage a few seconds to realize that the Frenchman was unsure what St Cast was going to say, and for reasons difficult yet to understand, St Brieuc was the one who made the decisions.
    â€œBecause of the Admiral’s—ah, activities—I had no difficulty in persuading him that despite the Admiralty’s orders making us his guests, we would prefer to travel in another ship.”
    Tactfully put, Ramage acknowledged, and I’d back my guess as to what happened with guineas: the gallant Admiral made advances to Madame de Dinan … and in all fairness I can’t blame him.
    â€œI was able to offer them the hospitality of the
Topaz,”
Yorke said, and Ramage guessed that the original passengers had been given suitable compensation to postpone their voyage or travel in another ship.
    These people must be influential enough for Goddard to be worried because they were not travelling in the
Lion.
The Admiralty would want explanations.
That
accounted for Goddard’s anxiety about the convoy: these people were the “important cargo” and that explained why Yorke hadn’t bothered to look round at the rest of the masters …
    But who were they and why were they going to Jamaica? St Cast seemed to be an aide or major-domo of some description; the small and birdlike St Brieuc was the man that mattered. But where was his daughter’s husband? Already Ramage disliked him because no one could deserve such a wife, and he was jealous—of a husband he had never seen of a woman he had met for the first time ten minutes before. It’s been an unusual sort of morning, he thought sourly to himself.
    â€œMy own story goes back a little further,” Ramage said, “but it’s a boring one of jealousy, vindictiveness and obsession.”
    â€œWe have some experience of all that … It’s almost a relief to know we’re not alone in our misery,” St Brieuc said quietly.
    â€œPlease,” the girl pleaded, “tell us, if you can.”
    â€œSay the word and we drop the subject,” Yorke said, “but …”
    Ramage laughed and reassured them, but they saw he was rubbing the older of the two scars above his right eyebrow. Yorke remembered seeing him do the same thing at the convoy conference when Goddard ignored him and introduced the other officers. It was obviously a habit when he was tense or concentrating. Yorke watched him snatch his hand away when he saw they had noticed.
    â€œThe story starts with my father. He’s an admiral, but not serving now.”
    â€œNot an old man, though, surely?” St Cast asked.
    â€œNo—simply out of favour.”
    St Brieuc snorted with contempt. “Politics, always politics!”
    Ramage nodded. “Politics, yes; but in a roundabout way because he isn’t attached to any particular party. He was regarded as one of the most brilliant admirals of his day, but, he had—and still has—many faults. He is impatient, he doesn’t suffer fools gladly and he is a very decisive sort of man. He hates indecisive people.”
    â€œHardly faults!” St Cast protested, almost to himself.
    â€œNo, but he also had strong and very advanced views on new tactics and signalling which would have revolutionized sea warfare—”
    â€œNo wonder he was unpopular,” Yorke said wryly. “Pity all those other admirals. After spending a lifetime learning and practising the old-style tactics, along comes a bright new admiral wanting to change everything. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks—and the old dogs know it!”
    â€œThere is something in that,” Ramage admitted, “but then politics came into it.”
    â€œAh,” said St Brieuc, as if Ramage’s story had reached a point he could fully