Ramage & the Saracens by Dudley Pope Read Free Book Online Page B

well, she was a bit wild, on account of her being Italian. And she could never settle down in England on account of her being the ruler of Volterra. She got pulled two ways.”
    â€œYou think she’s still alive?” Rossi asked.
    Jackson shook his head. “I can’t see Boney letting her go back to Volterra: she’d rouse up the people to throw out the French within a week of unpacking her bags.”
    â€œYou reckon Mr Ramage thinks that?”
    Jackson nodded. “From what I understood, he and his father did all they could to persuade her not to leave England when the peace was signed because they knew it would not last.”
    â€œAnd Mr Orsini? After all, she’s his aunt.”
    â€œHe must know by now. He’s not a kid any more. Just think of him when he first joined the ship. Just a young boy then. Now he’s a young man. Almost, anyway, and as good a seaman as anyone in the ship, except Mr Ramage and Mr Southwick.”
    â€œThis marchesa,” Gilbert asked. “Was she beautiful?”
    Jackson nodded. “Yes. She was tiny—about five feet tall. Black hair. Very Italian, if you know what I mean. Very fiery. You could see she was used to ruling.”
    â€œAnd Mr Ramage, he fell in love with her?”
    â€œWe thought so: after we rescued her in Italy, she went to live with Mr Ramage’s parents, and we thought they’d get married.”
    â€œBut Mr Ramage went off and married Lady Sarah,” Gilbert said, “and she is very English!”
    â€œVery,” Jackson said. “A real lady. Just about the opposite to the marchesa in every way. Don’t get me wrong,” Jackson added hastily, “the marchesa was a real lady too, but she—well, a lot of the time, she seemed to be in a passion about something or other. Lady Sarah always seems so calm—as you know, since you saw her in France.”
    â€œAh, what calm,” Gilbert said, and Auguste, Louis, and Albert nodded their heads in agreement. “Calm without being cold. A very passionate lady under that calm, and so brave.”
    â€œIt must be sad for Mr Ramage not knowing for sure about the marchesa,” Rossi said. “If he knew for certain she was dead, well, that would be that. And if he knew she was alive, then there is nothing to worry about. But never being sure … that must be hard, for him and his family, let alone Mr Orsini.”
    â€œWell, worrying about it ain’t going to sink that frigate,” Stafford said, beginning to collect up the plates. “Since I’m the mess cook this week, let me get on with washing up these mess traps. Gawd, you’re a messy eater, Rosey,” he said, using the side of his palm to sweep crumbs from the hard biscuit onto a plate.

CHAPTER FOUR
    R AMAGE leaned with his elbows on the top of the binnacle box, looking at the chart spread out by Southwick and held down by paperweights. There was the island of Capraia on the chart, and there it was in fact almost dead ahead.
    On this course and with this wind the
Calypso
should just pass the southern end of the island. If the wind backed a point or two, she would have to tack, which he wanted to avoid.
    â€œYou can lay the southern end of the island comfortably?” he asked the quartermaster.
    â€œAye, sir, with a point in hand,” the man answered.
    The mountains and cliffs were sharp now: the island seemed to grow taller as they approached. I’d not like to hit this coast on a dark night with a
libeccio
blowing, he thought to himself: nor, for that matter, would he want to have to land a boat on a calm day: there seemed to be no beaches: only rocks and cliffs.
    How far to the southern end of the island? Perhaps two miles, and the
Calypso
was making about five knots against a head wind. Well, there was no need to leave everything to the last minute.
    â€œBeat to quarters, Mr Hill,” he said. “I want the guns loaded with