Ramage And The Rebels

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Southwick was angry, puzzled and disbelieving. He told Ramage that soon after daylight he had received a letter - or, rather, he had opened a letter - from the Governor addressed to 'Captain Lord Ramage' saying that a Dutch frigate would be arriving in Amsterdam at noon, and that 'normal salutes will be fired'.

'"Normal salutes" indeed!' Southwick said crossly. 'I don't know who the Governor thinks he is, but that letter shows he's forgotten he's no longer the Governor, and how dare he give orders to one of the King's ships. Or, rather, the captain of the King's ship that's taken the island's surrender! As if we'd salute an enemy ship!'

'Not "orders", surely?" Ramage asked mildly.

'Orders, sir: you wait until I show you the letter. I have it locked up at the moment. The Delft- that's the frigate - will salute the Governor, then salute us, and we return gun for gun. The British flag will be hauled down half an hour before she comes in through the forts, and the flag of the Batavian Republic hoisted. We will not "commit any hostile act" against her, and so on. And the Dutch flags were still flying at sunset . . .'

'You'd better get me the letter,' Ramage said.

He had come on board weary and apprehensive. The Delft was anchored two hundred yards away towards the channel entrance and despite the Governor's letter Southwick had the Calypso's guns loaded, the few men on board had been sent to general quarters, and he had taken in on the spring to the anchor cable to turn the whole ship so that her starboard broadside was aimed at the Delft. It was not a noticeable move; the wind was holding the Calypso across the channel and she had to be turned only a point for all the guns to bear, and the spring was on the larboard side, away from the Delft. The Dutch flags on the forts: Ramage suspected that could be the most significant part of the whole business. Hoisting them in place of the British flags for an hour or so, so that the Delft came in and gave the former Governor a chance to explain the situation - yes, that made sense. Then the British flags should have been hoisted again.

Exactly what was the status of the Delft? That was a puzzle. She was a Dutch ship and therefore an enemy, and she had entered the main port of an island which had surrendered to the British, all of which made her a British prize. But the Dutch flags were flying, on the former Governor's orders, so the Delft's captain could claim that he did not know the British now controlled the island, and had the Dutch flags not been hoisted he would not have entered. And so the arguments could go on.

The fact was, Ramage decided, that the Governor (the former Governor, rather) had interfered in something that was not his concern. Unless . . . unless he was going back on the surrender terms, now that the Delft had come in - and, Ramage thought ruefully, now that the British had disposed of all the rebels and French privateersmen.

Southwick came up on deck with the letter and Ramage moved closer to the gangway lantern to read it. Shorn of its polite verbiage, it bore out the master's description, except that Southwick had not mentioned that under van Someren's signature was his own description, 'Governor'. In all official communications, especially in circumstances like these, every word was significant.

Ramage folded the' letter and put it in his pocket Aitken and the rest of the ship's officers were below, washing and shaving, while the seamen were washing on deck using head pumps and buckets, tired, but from the singing and joking, cheerful enough.

'I shall be calling on the former Governor. First I'm going to tidy myself. I want two boats rowing guard around us all night, and a third boat watching the Delft, from a discreet distance. Any sign of mischief, and it can burn a blue light. Two men at every gun on the starboard side, four lookouts, and plenty of flares ready: we can dazzle any would - be boarders, as well as see them.'

'Aye aye, sir,' Southwick said. 'We won't get caught napping.'

'And I want an officer in the boat watching the Delft. They're all short of sleep but that's unfortunate. A senior petty officer in each of the two other boats. Young Orsini can take a turn in one of them.'

With that Ramage went below. An hour later, washed, shaved and in a clean uniform, wearing polished shoes and a ceremonial sword, the former Governor's letter stowed carefully in a pocket, he was being announced at van Someren's residence.

The great drawing room was both hot and crowded: not because of the number of candles burning in the two chandeliers overhead and the candelabra and candlesticks which seemed to be placed at random on every table, but because of the number of people in the room.

Ramage stood at the big double doors, deliberately waiting for van Someren to step forward to greet him, and also to give himself time to see who else was in the room. Van Someren was having an animated talk with two Dutch naval officers, one of whom was probably the Delft's captain: two other Dutch officers, one Army and one Navy, were waiting three or four feet away, as though they were aides expecting to be called.

Major Lausser was over by the big windows, not in uniform and talking to Maria van Someren and her mother. There were half a dozen other men in the room, with their wives. Two were officers from the garrison, the others probably leading citizens. But it was immediately obvious to Ramage that Lausser, Maria and her mother looked thoroughly uncomfortable; embarrassed but, he felt, anxious to talk and pleased (relieved?) to see him.

Why was Lausser not with the former Governor? In the brief moment available to scan the room Ramage had the impression that Lausser was definitely excluded from van Someren's circle. It was hard to explain the impression but it was as tangible as a drop in the temperature.

Finally, deliberately finishing what he had been saying to the Delft's captain, van Someren walked over to Ramage, unsmiling and formal, condescending and giving the impression of a busy man being bothered by a trifle.

'My dear Ramage, I trust you've come to report on the success of your foray.'

Ramage bowed slightly. 'My compliments to your wife and daughter. I trust they are well?'

Van Someren, puzzled, turned and gestured towards them. 'Indeed they are, as you can see. Now, your report - '

'It will be delivered in the normal way,' Ramage interrupted and, lowering his voice so that no one else in the room could hear, added - 'to my admiral. Now, sir, shall we go to your office so that you can report to me?' To you? Why, that is preposterous I Why - '

'I think this is hardly the place to discuss the matter.'

'I am not accustomed to being given orders in my own residence,' van Someren said haughtily.

That was a habit acquired while you were Governor,' Ramage said, making no attempt to keep the edge out of his voice.

'I am still the Governor, and you will address me as "Your Excellency".'

'You are not the Governor,' Ramage said evenly, and he looked van Someren straight in the eye when he added: 'You surrendered yourself and the island to me as the representative of His Britannic Majesty, and you will therefore obey any orders I find - it necessary to give.'

Van Someren looked down, and then glanced round at the groups of Dutch naval officers, as if feeling the need for reinforcements. 'You had better meet the officers from the frigate.'

Ramage nodded briefly but said: 'First I wish to see your wife and daughter.' When van Someren came with him, Ramage added: 'Alone, I think.'

And, he thought as' he walked slowly across the room, now van Someren is not quite so sure of himself. The news that I have disposed of the rebels and the privateers must have put the idea into his head that the threat which made him surrender the island and ask for Britain's protection has vanished. And then the Delft arrives, giving him the reinforcements he needs and changing the situation radically so that it boils down to this: his strength and safety lies in the Delft frigate, while the threat now conies from the Calypso frigate. And they are lying almost alongside each other in the harbour. Two gamblers facing each other across a gaming table: on one side Gottlieb van Someren, wagering the island on the Delft frigate; on the other Nicholas Ramage, wagering the Calypso frigate. The piece of parchment recording the island's surrender was not worth the toss of a worn dice.

Ramage kissed Mrs van Someren's hand, did the same to Maria, and turned to Major Lausser, who was holding out his hand and shook Ramage's firmly. None of them had said a word, but sides had obviously been taken long before Ramage arrived back at Otrabanda, let alone landed on Punda.

'You were successful,' Lausser said. 'My congratulations. I did not think it possible.'

'Much depends on one's enemy making mistakes.'

Lausser glanced up and smiled. 'Indeed, how right you are. And if one can wait long enough, they usually do.'

Ramage nodded, understanding exactly what Lausser was telling him. Now to make sure Maria was not just a neutral. 'Your fiance is still the first lieutenant in the Delft, Mademoiselle?'

'My fiance? Why, My Lord, I am not engaged.' Her hand moved her fan slowly, and Ramage saw the faint mark on her finger where until very recently there had been a heavily - jewelled ring.

'My apologies,' Ramage said quickly. 'I must have heard idle chatter about someone else. But what a pleasant surprise for you all, the Delft arriving after all this time.'

'Oh yes,' Maria said quietly. 'As you can see, we are all so delighted that we are giving a ball for all the officers.'

'How kind of you. What evening will it be?'

'Oh, it is now,' Maria said. The edge on her laugh showed she was not far from tears. 'Can you not see all the gay couples dancing? Our orchestra here in Amsterdam is like our honour, invisible and silent'

'Maria!' her mother protested but without much conviction. 'Your father has his duty to do.'

Ramage wondered why Lausser was not wearing uniform instead of a soberly - cut grey coat, with matching breeches. The Dutchman read Ramage's thoughts. 'I resigned my commission' at noon,' he said.

'Before the former Governor sent a letter over to the Calypso?' 'Yes. A few minutes before. Several others resigned at the same time.'

'I see,' Ramage said. 'But you are in a minority?'

Lausser shrugged his shoulders. 'Yes, because only few people know what is going on.'

'They can guess, surely?'

'Probably not. The surrender to the British has not yet been published in the island's official gazette. Only a dozen people know you in fact lawfully command in Curacao. The rest believe a rumour, that the British had offered to help. Now the Delft has arrived, obviously the British can leave.'

'Can they leave?'

Again Lausser shrugged his shoulders. 'At the time I resigned,' he said carefully, 'that decision had not been made.'

Ramage saw that Lausser was watching someone behind him and turned to find van Someren had joined them. He touched Ramage's arm. 'Come now, you must meet the captain of the Delft.' 'In your study,' Ramage said firmly. This is not a social encounter.'

'But, my dear Lord Ramage, of course it is!'

'Mister van Someren,' Ramage said heavily, 'you have no doubt heard of Newmarket Heath, in England?'

'Newmarket? Isn't that where the horses race?'

'Yes, and I must remind you of two things that even the unluckiest gambler on the Heath learned at his father's knee . . .'

'And what are they?'

"The first is that only one horse can win a race.'

Van Someren grunted. 'He did not learn how to choose the winner, though."

'No, that needs skill. But even the betting man knows the second lesson concerning horses.'

'And I am supposed to ask what that is?' van Someren asked impatiently.

'No, you are supposed to know that it is dangerous to change horses in midstream.'

'Come!' van Someren said crossly. We go to my study." He led the way from the drawing room, snapping fingers at the two naval officers, indicating that they should follow. In the study he began introductions, but Ramage stopped him, even though he was curious about the younger man, who had been engaged to Maria. 'I am forbidden by the laws of the Navy from having any meeting with the enemy. I accepted the surrender of this island from you, which means that you and your people are now under my protection. This gentleman, if he commands the Delft, either surrenders his ship to me, or he remains my enemy. Britain is still at war with the Batavian Republic . . .'

This is ridiculous,' van Someren snapped. 'You don't take that surrender seriously, do you? Why, it was signed under duress.'

'All surrenders are signed under duress,' Ramage said dryly. 'Only I wasn't applying the duress; your own Dutch rebels and the French privateersmen were, if you remember.'

The duress, or threat, does not exist. You know that.'

'Oh yes, I know that it does not exist now, I removed it for you.'

'So you can see how absurd it is that I should surrender an island like this to a single English frigate I Quite absurd.'

The instrument of surrender has your signature on it, witnessed by Major Lausser.'

'Lausser no longer holds a commission.'

'Neither do you,' Ramage said quietly. 'You are no longer the Governor of the island, by virtue of the surrender you signed, .but that doesn't make the surrender document invalid: nothing - ' he paused and then said with more emphasis - 'nothing erases your signature. You surrendered the island of Curacao.'

Van Someren gave an airy wave of his hand. This is just the idle chatter of a young man,' he said in English to the Delft's captain. 'He knows nothing of law, diplomacy or politics.'

And that, Ramage thought, is the end of that: he had given van Someren plenty of time to reconsider: whatever happens to him now is his own fault. Ramage admitted to himself that be was angry because he had taken van Someren for a man of honour, forgetting he was first and foremost a politician and a survivor: he had changed his politics and survived as Governor of Curacao when the French invaded the Netherlands and his own monarch had fled to England.

'Mister van Someren,' Ramage said, with a slight emphasis on the 'mister', 'I must return to my ship, but before I go I think my admiral would want me to point out two things. First, the instrument of surrender will be published in England, and the moment the French government read it your life won't be worth a worn - out shoe if they can get their hands on you; they'll trot you off to the guillotine. Any question of your going back on it, therefore, is suicide. Second, Curacao has been surrendered to the British. That a Dutch I

frigate has since arrived in the port is of no consequence. Now the island is British and we shall keep our word - my signature is on the document by which you place Curacao under my King's protection. Long before you can send any news to the Netherlands, let alone receive any help, a substantial British force will have arrived here from Jamaica.'

The Delft's captain, a swarthy and stocky man with a plump, white face in which the eyes seemed to be deeply - embedded currants in a suet pudding, tapped Ramage on the shoulder, and grinned, showing yellowed teeth which reminded Ramage of the horse that van Someren was changing in midstream, 'You know the answer, English?' Ramage shook his head.

"The answer, English, is that this surrender paper must not leave Amsterdam.'

In a fraction of a second Ramage realized that not only was he in a trap and the Delft had sprung it, but there was no point in acknowledging defeat. Surprise, that was the secret, helped by a white lie or so. He gave a contemptuous laugh. 'Must not leave Amsterdam? You don't seriously think it is still here, do you?'

The captain looked nervously at van Someren, who had gone white. 'When did you send it away? How? No ship has left Amsterdam!'

'Amsterdam is hardly the only place from which a ship can leave the island. What do you think my admiral would say if I took the surrender of the island and then, without telling him, went off over the hills chasing a horde of pirates and rebels? He would court - martial me!'

He would, too, Ramage thought wryly, if he knew about it. And the contemptuous laugh and the tone of his voice was perfect. The two men believed him at the moment. Later they might have doubts; later they might reassure each other, but that would be - later. Ramage had seen many actors staying on the stage too long after a good performance, remaining until the applause died so that they had to walk off in silence.

'I bid you gentlemen good night,' he said.

'Don't try to escape, English,' the Delft's captain called after him. 'My ship is covering you. You are my prize.'

That's so,' van Someren repeated. 'You must consider yourselves our prisoners. We shall hoist the Dutch flag over the British in the morning.'

His cabin was cool and the breeze, still strong even though it was ten o'clock at night, made the candles flicker. The lieutenants stood or perched on the settee: Southwick, although only a warrant officer and technically the most junior in rank, sat in the armchair and Ramage was at his desk, the chair pulled round to face the men.

He bad just finished telling them about his visit to Government House, and of how the Delft's captain had played what he thought was an ace by saying the instrument of surrender would not leave the island.

'Do you think they believed you, sir?' Aitken asked. 'Saying it had already gone sounds likely. A fine trump card, in fact.'

They believed me at the time because it was such a shock, but by now they may have had second thoughts. Van Someren knows no ship left Amsterdam. The chance of us having a ship waiting in one of the bays - well, it's remote, when you come to think of it.'

Wagstaffe straightened himself up. "Whether or not they believe it, sir, are we to assume the Delft is hostile?'

'Very much so. But her captain and van Someren regard us as her prize. If she needs to sink us, she will.'

Southwick gave one of his contemptuous snorts. The Delft might be planning to sink us, but what have you in mind for the Delft?' Ramage looked round at the gathered men. 'Any suggestions?'

Lacey said: 'I'd like to start off by bombarding Government House. When I think of all those mosquito and sandfly bites . . . just to kill off some of the former Governor's enemies.'

'It'd be a good idea, if only to teach this damnable former excellency a lesson,' Southwick growled. Topple a few tiles round his ears. Teach him that a gentleman keeps his word.'

'He knows that already,' Aitken said sourly. That's why a scoundrel can always cheat a man of honour.'

'Oh yes, but there's nothing to stop a man of honour boxing his ears afterwards,' Southwick said.

'I'm waiting for ideas,' Ramage said patiently.

'Just open fire on her, sir. We've springs on our cable and our shooting will be accurate,' Wagstaffe said.

They can put a spring on their cable - probably have, in fact - and shoot just as well,' Ramage said. 'We end up with a pounding match at a cable's distance. The first ship reduced to splinters is the loser.'

'What had you in mind, sir?' Aitken asked cautiously.

'I'd like to destroy the Delft with no damage to the Calypso and no casualties to us.'

'Who wouldn't?" Southwick growled impatiently, ruffling his hair. 'No one wants damage or casualties, sir, but short of blowing her out of the water, how can we do that?'

'What's wrong with blowing her out of the water?' Ramage asked innocently.

'It's a waste of our powder,' Southwick chuckled. 'It'd take several tons.'

'Quite,' Ramage said, 'but I had in mind to use hers.'

Six pairs of startled eyes jerked round to stare at him.

'You're teasing us,' Southwick protested.

Ramage shook his head. 'You have to think ahead. After we've destroyed the Delft we still have a problem - my original orders."

'The privateers?" Southwick exclaimed. "Why, we've dealt with them!"

'I'm sure Admiral Foxe-Foote wouldn't agree. We have ten privateers anchored in Amsterdam, but we can't stay here and guard 'em, and we don't have enough men to sail them all to Jamaica. If we leave any behind, the Dutch might take them - or sell them to the French or Spanish.'

'Let's sink those we can't take with us," Southwick said gruffly. They won't yield much prize money, anyway."

'That Nuestra Senora de Antigua' Wagstaffe said bitterly. 'I'd like to see her burn. Pity we can't sort out the survivors of her original crew and put them on board. Anyway, her captain's dead, we know that."

'She would burn well," Ramage said dreamily, and all movement in the cabin stopped. Suddenly he could hear the water lapping under the Calypso's stern, and the gentle whine of the wind in the rigging, and on deck a sentry coughed and then spat over the side.

'Francis Drake, sir?" Aitken asked.

Ramage nodded. Tonight. The wind is holding. About three o'clock, before moonrise. The explosion should take most of the tiles off Government House."

'Shall I start the preparations, sir?'

'Here, hold hard a moment,' Southwick protested. This is all beyond me.'

Wagstaffe laughed happily and said: 'Drake . . . come on, old man, he was a bit before your time, but you must have heard how he launched fireships against the Spanish Armada when it anchored off Gravelines."

'Ah, yes, but although I wasn't there I did hear tell that he didn't sink any Spanish ships with 'em.'

'No, but they cut their cables and ran for their lives.'

'We don't want the Delft cutting and running though; we want her blowing up right where she is,' Southwick declared.

Wagstaffe was enjoying teasing the master. 'Drake would have enjoyed the idea of using a French privateer with a Spanish name to blow up a Dutch frigate.'

'So would I,' Southwick said as he suddenly worked out Ramage's intention. 'And there's a lot of work to be done preparing the Nuestra Senora. For a start she hasn't a single sail bent on.'

Silently in the darkness, always keeping the bulk of the Calypso between them and the Delft, the British frigate's boats had rowed back and forth to the Nuestra Senora ferrying across casks, axes and saws, grapnels, lengths of light chain, coils of ropes and several single and double blocks to make up sheets for the sails to save time searching through the schooner for the originals.

While seamen working under the boatswain and Southwick hoisted the sails up on deck and then bent them on to masts and stays, others removed all the hatches, cut big holes in the few permanent bulkheads so that the wind could blow through the ship and up the hatchways, and lifted off skylights to ensure a good draught.

More men climbed up the rigging and secured the grapnels from chains so that they hung down just above the level of the enemy bulwarks, suspended where they would hook into the Delft's rigging. Two axes rested against the anchor cable bitts; all her guns to the starboard side had been loaded with two shots each and a treble charge of powder, although no gunners would fire them because the barrels would probably burst; only heat or sparks falling into the pans would ignite the gunpowder.

Ramage went into the captain's cabin - it was little more than a large cuddy - and was surprised and thankful at the draught blowing through it; a draught that when the time came would fan the flames like a blacksmith's bellows, although for the moment it did its best to remove the stench in which Brune had lived. He walked forward to where the privateersmen normally lived and where their hammocks were still slung. Several seamen were busy breaking up blocks of pitch and wedging them wherever a ledge in the planking would hold a piece. Several of the hammocks swung gently with the sharp outlines of pieces of pitch revealing their contents.

In another corner half a dozen seamen were busy chopping coils of thick rope into ten - foot lengths, while others frayed the ends and jammed them into the piles of pitch. Every few feet were small casks of tar, identifiable only by their smell, because there was always seepage between the staves. They would not be smashed or have their bungs knocked out until the last moment, and many of them rested on piles of spare satis.

Rennick and his sergeant, each with a long coil of slow match slung round his neck, were at work round the mainmast where ten half - casks of powder, each three and a half feet long, were securely lashed in place, each with its bung uppermost. From a point fifteen feet away several lengths of slow match stretched along the deck, like a thin octopus, the ends disappearing in the bungholes, where they went down into the powder and were held lightly in position by wooden bungs.

'Burns at the rate of two feet a minute, sir,' Rennick explained. There's fifteen feet from this point to the casks. We don't need a slow match to each cask, of course,' he added hurriedly. 'One would be enough, because when one cask goes up they'll all go, but we have plenty of insurance. When the time comes we light as many as possible, but there's no need to do them all.'

The guns?' Ramage asked.

'I finally triple - shotted them on the starboard side - those which will point at the Delft. Those on the larboard side facing us are triple - charged without shot, and the breechings are cut, so when they go off they'll recoil right across the ship.'

'You still have the port fires to arrange?'

'Yes, sir, I thought I'd set them on deck near the wheel. It'll help us see what we're doing for the last minute or two.'

'And that brandy?'

'Southwick has stowed the casks on deck along the starboard side, forward. I have a Marine sentry guarding it. We were lucky to get it on board without a cask being "accidentally" stove in.'

Ramage nodded. The purser's glad to see the back of it He's been worried ever since he found it.'

On deck Ramage shivered as he considered the Nuestra Senora de Antigua as a furnace: pitch and tar with frayed rope, old sails and smashed - up gratings to start a fire, brandy to increase it and finally powder to scatter it - and the schooner - over the Delft. The grapnels should catch in the Delft's rigging and hold the Nuestra Senora to her long enough for a fatal and fiery embrace.

The men who sailed the schooner, setting fire to her at the last moment as she crashed alongside the Delft, would have to take their chance in the water, leaping over the side and swimming, and hoping that the baulks of timber hurled into the air by the explosions did not land on their heads. The Calypso's boats should approach from the side away from the Delft and pick them up, providing that flying wreckage and sharks had left anything to save.

Southwick bustled up and said conversationally: 'It's going to take some good timing to shoot up into the wind so that she carries her way and gets alongside the Delft, sir.'

'I've been thinking about that'

'Not above half a mile to get the canvas drawing well and plenty of way on her.'

'A little over half a mile.'

'Doesn't give you much time to get the feel of the ship, and you'll have to start lighting her up below before you're actually alongside, or else there's a chance the Dutchmen will get on board or cut away the grapnels - or if the chain beats 'em, the rigging from which they're hanging.'

True,' Ramage said patiently.

'And an unlucky shot through that brandy wont help either. They'll be firing at you, of course.'

'I hadn't anticipated them pelting me with flowers, but their broadside guns won't bear until almost the last moment'

'Musketry, though,' Southwick said gloomily. There'll be plenty of that; musket balls falling like rain. You'll need spare men ready to take over at the tiller, because the Dutch will be aiming at them.'

'Look,' Ramage said finally, 'I've made up my mind. I am taking the Nuestra Senora alongside, and you are staying on board the Calypso. And I don't want to hear that sad story again of how you missed the chase across the island. If you could have run a mile you'd have been welcome. If you can swim a mile you can come with the Nuestra Senora.' 'Don't need to swim a mile, begging your pardon.'

'You couldn't swim a hundred yards, so let's have no more arguing.'

'But you are taking Jackson, aren't you, sir?'

'Jackson, Stafford, Rossi, Baker - hell take over command if anything happens to me - Rennick and fourteen more men. Twenty to handle a fireship - quite apart from those helping to hoist sails who will leave before we get under way. That's quite enough. Half a dozen would be sufficient.'

'I wish you'd tow a boat, sir, so you can be sure of escaping.'

'We've gone over that,' Ramage said impatiently. The painter will get foul of the rudder or some such thing: and a boat rowing away would make a fine target for Dutch muskets in the light of the flames. They'll never see swimmers and even if they did they'd never hit them.'

'Well, you know what you're doing, sir,' Southwick said in a voice which implied just the opposite.

Thank you,' Ramage said stiffly. 'If you'll learn to swim and lose two stone in weight, you can command all the fire - ships you want'

By half past two the Nuestra Senora de Antigua was ready, Jackson and Stafford stood at the big curved tiller and Ramage waited close by with Baker. Down below Rennick had several lanthorns ready, the new candles inside burning steadily but their light hidden by screens of sacking. When the word came from the quarterdeck the candles would be taken out and used to light the fuses to the powder casks and the piles of combustibles which would start the pitch and tar burning and eventually ignite the brandy in the casks. The powder exploding should in turn send off first the Nuestra Senora's own magazine and then the Delft's. Ramage could feel the wind steady on his face. It had backed to the east - north - east, so that it was blowing across the channel from the Punda side to Otrabanda not quite at right - angles. The privateers, the Calypso and the Delft were all lying head to wind, their bows pointing to Punda. The moon had not yet risen - Ramage had planned his attack for an hour earlier - but the stars were bright, the banks of the channel and the quays grey ribbons with the bulky ships black between them.

There had been no sign of Dutch guard boats; they were obviously relying on lookouts on board. What was that captain expecting? Did he anticipate an attack by 'English'? He would expect a battle of broadsides, and perhaps an attempt to board. He knew there was little chance of the Calypso weighing and trying to get alongside because the channel was too narrow (particularly without a pilot to warn of shoals) for frigates to manoeuvre drawing more than sixteen feet. By now then, the Dutch might have decided the Calypso would do nothing until daylight - or even that Ramage might realize he really was trapped and negotiate the surrender of his ship. Or - the thought had only just struck him - perhaps van Someren intended to have the big guns from the two forts hauled round to the town at daylight so that from the quays on each side they could if necessary help the Delft's guns pound the Calypso to pieces. Each fort had twenty - five or so 24 - pounders, which meant that the Calypso would be receiving the fire equivalent to a ship of the line, and unable to reply to most of it... It was curious how neither he nor any of his lieutenants had thought of the Dutch doing it Underestimating the enemy was a bad mistake, but the fireship idea had occupied all their thoughts.

There were groups of men at both the Nuestra Senora's masts, ready to haul on halyards to hoist the great mainsail, foresail, forestaysail and jib. There were a couple more head - sails that could be hoisted, but they would take time and meant only more sheets to be trimmed, more ropes to get snagged; trying to free a headsail because of a jammed sheet was a distraction he was anxious to avoid. As it was, the sheets had been led round so that the headsails would be hoisted backed, so that the schooner's bow began to pay off to starboard as the anchor cable was cut, ensuring she was on the right tack and would not have to go about Two men waited at the bitts with axes, ready to cut the anchor cable. Rennick and his men were below - Satan and his firemen, Southwick had called them - and Rossi was here on deck with the port fires, sacking, some old sails and blocks of pitch that should cause a fine blaze, helped by the folds of the mainsail as soon as the halyards were let run.

He looked over to starboard and could just make out the black hull of the Calypso, but she had the Delft beyond and the harbour entrance. The tree frogs sounded sharp and noisy, even this far from the shore, a constant squeaky noise like a Mock that needed greasing. The four Dutch guards, two on the Nuestra Senora and two on the next privateer, now prisoners in the Calypso, must wonder what the devil was going on. Very soon, he thought grimly, they would be certain the end of the world had come.

Ramage, calling down to Rennick to stove in the tar barrels so that it began seeping into the wood, began to walk forward. It was a strange sensation. Like all the rest of his party he wore only trousers and a shirt; his bare feet padding over, the deck, the soles of his feet detecting the unevenness of the schooner's planking. He had a Sea Service pistol in his waist - belt, just in case, but if he had not fired it when the time came to dive overboard, it would be another weapon for the Calypso's gunner to list as 'lost in action'.

There was no point in waiting any longer to get under way because everything was ready. Everything except the captain's courage, which be knew had vanished: his knees had a curious springiness about them, and his shin and thigh muscles had melted; there seemed to be bile at the back of his throat and his stomach was on the verge of heaving, as though he had eaten bad meat for supper. By now he was at the mainmast, and the men were waiting expectantly. 'Hoist away,' he said, 'and overhaul the mainsheet. And no noise!'

The blocks had been greased within the past hour, but it usually took a few spins of the sheaves to work the grease in. The blocks on the gaff were no exception, but by the time the sail began to creep up the mast he was abreast the foremast, repeating his order for the foresail. The few remaining gaskets were taken off the foresail and its gaff began creeping up the mast, pulling up the sail and having no apparent connection with the men hauling down on the halyards.

The mainsail was up, with a few more swigs on the peak halyard needed to top up the gaff, but the canvas was only rippling, not flogging, as the wind blew down both sides so that the sail did not draw. Flogging canvas on a night like this would sound like rolling gunfire.

Now the foresail was up and as the men topped up the gaff Ramage gestured to the men at the headsail halyards. At once narrow triangles of canvas rose up the stays, but instead of taking up the bellying curve of sails drawing they became almost flattened, held aback by the sheets so that the wind pushed against them, thrusting the bow over to starboard. But by then Ramage had walked up to the bow, where the two men waited with axes.

Yes, the Nuestra Senora's bow was being pushed round towards the entrance. 'Cut!' he snapped, and the first axe blade thudded into the cable, followed by the second. Five blows and the end of the cable whiplashed out over the bow and at once the schooner, no longer held by her anchor, swung round to starboard so that she headed along the channel, pointing at the Calypso and the harbour entrance.

Without further orders men were casting off the headsail sheets and making them up on the starboard side so that the sails began to draw; three men were enough to trim the foresail sheet because for a moment there was no weight on the sail, and four more tailed on to the mainsheet.

And the Nuestra Senora de Antigua began to come alive: with all the sails drawing she was already picking up speed and Ramage called: 'Sail hoisters - to your boat!' The boat was towing astern, ready for them, and he walked aft, expecting the dozen or so extra men on board to rush past him to jump into the boat, cast off and row for the Calypso. He had reached' the quarterdeck, looking up at the set of the sails and glancing forward to see the Calypso getting closer, when he realized that not a man had moved. 'Sail handlers! To your boat!' he called.

There seemed many fewer men on deck now. What the devil was going on? Or had he had a momentary lapse and not noticed the men leaving?

'Jackson! Has the sail handling party left?'

'It - er, I haven't been watching them, sir.'

'What the devil is happening? Where are the men?'

'Hiding, sir,' Jackson said bluntly. They want to lend a hand setting fire to the ship!'

'But what - '

They can all swim, sir,' Jackson said, leaning against the great wooden bar of the tiller. 'How close should I pass astern of the Calypso, sir? I'm wondering if this side of the channel shoals - there are no quays abreast the Delft on the Otrabanda side.' A fireship with thirty men on board . . . Still, better too many than too few ... "Steady as you go,' he said to Jackson. The Delft was still out of sight, hidden by the Calypso, but the schooner would pass thirty yards astern of the British frigate, which any moment would cease to hide her from lookouts in the Delft, even if the Dutchmen had not already spotted the sails. Men tended to see only what they were looking for, with luck no one had told the Dutchmen to do anything but watch the Calypso. Mainsail drawing well - and it was a well - cut sail; he could see that much in the starlight. Foresail rather baggy, probably an older sail, but also drawing well. And the headsails trimmed to perfection, as though the men knew that Southwick had his nightglass trained on them. And in the calm water the bow wave was a loud hiss as the schooner continued increasing speed, the wind on the larboard beam. Four knots, five and now six, Ramage estimated. Her bottom was dean, that much was certain; the copper sheathing had kept her clear of barnacles and weed. She picked up speed quickly and, he must remember, she would take time to lose way. The Calypso was looming up fast, her three great masts and yards seeming black stripes against the stars. Still no sign of the Delft. Jackson and Stafford were quite happy at the tiller, easing the schooner slightly in puffs that were just enough to heel her a few degrees. Everyone would be watching from the Calypso, nightglasses jammed to straining eyes; lookouts on the seaward side would be hard put not to glance over their shoulders at the sight of a schooner racing up the channel in the starlight under all plain sail. There was phosphorescence in here too, so her bow wave would be a pale green flame, seeming alive. There! A vague dark blob beyond the Calypso's stern; a blurring of stars low on the horizon, hidden by the Dutch frigate's masts and rigging. Two hundred yards to got 'Rennick, ahoy down there! Start lighting up!' Almost at once he could see Made hatchways becoming pale yellow squares as lanthorns came out from behind screens and the candles were snatched up to light fuses and combustibles. The reek of tar, and also the sooty smell of guttering candles - no, that was from Rossi's lanthorns, which he had, very sensibly, put in the schooner's binnacle box.

'Rossi, stand by to light those port fires!'

One hundred and fifty yards to go, six ship's lengths or more. Flickering at the hatchways - Rennick's men were making a good start and the tar was probably flaring. The Delft must see the lights now - the flames, still small, were reflecting on the underside of the fore and main booms, lighting the rigging as delicate tracery and just catching the weave of the canvas. And the phosphorescence must make the bow wave and wash very obvious. Were the Dutch waiting with a broadside? He gave a quick order to Jackson which brought the schooner a point to larboard but the Dutch still could not train round their broadside guns far enough.

No point in trimming sails; the Nuestra Senora would carry more than enough way to shoot her up into the wind and alongside the frigate. For a moment he thought the crackling was musket and pistol fire from the Delft; then he realized it was the sound of flames inside the schooner. The pitch must have caught - yes, and here was the beginning of the smoke, sharp in the throat The only thing (apart from his bad seamanship) that could save the Dutch now would be for the fire down below to get out of hand, so that it reached those half - casks of powder before the Nuestra Senora could get alongside ... A hundred yards to go, perhaps less. The schooner was seventy feet long, twenty - five yards.

'Stand by at all the halyards!'

He could see men, the extra men, materializing from their hiding places behind masts, behind guns, behind coils of rope. He needed them now; it saved him calling up Rennick's men, as he'd planned. And - yes, he could improve the plan.

'A man to every grapnel,' he bellowed. 'Up the ratlines with you and haul 'em on board, ready to toss into the Dutchman's rigging as we come alongside - I'll give the word!'

There was Rossi, waiting calmly. 'Get your lanterns out but keep them down so you don't blind us!'

Rennick was shouting up through the skylight (now a gaping 'hole) of the captain's cuddy that all was well below. The smoke was swirling up through the hatches; he could hear men coughing and cursing. 'Get your men on deck, then I' he ordered Rennick. The Delft was huge now, fine on the larboard bow. Left on this course, the Nuestra Senora would pass across her stem and race out through the harbour entrance. No - don't look at those flashes along the Delft's upper decks: the Dutchmen are Mazing away with muskets. Wounded Calypsos - that was his great fear any man wounded had to be left behind: he had given strict orders about that Seventy - five yards. Jackson was watching him, the luffs of the sails and the Delft. The schooner's hatchways were yellow and red rectangles of light and flames: the draught below was more than he expected, roaring, a blacksmith's bellows. And here was Rennick, breathless. 'Everything going fine, sir!' 'Not burning too quickly?' 'No - it just looks like it from up here I'

'Rossi,' Ramage called. 'Start those port fires!' And there was the stern of the Delft on the larboard bow, the flashes of muskets making her seem like a house surrounded by fireflies. This was the moment 'Hard over, Jackson!' It was not a regular helm order but far more effective. Smoothly the Delft herself seemed to move quite slowly from the larboard side, across the schooner's bow - just missing the bowsprit - to place herself on the starboard bow, forty yards or so ahead and now heading the same way. The schooner's sails began flogging, the masts shaking the ship.

'Make up topping lifts . .. Let go all halyards! Stand from under! Mind the booms and gaffs!' Rossi's port fires burst into flame and Ramage saw Jackson, face calm, eyes sparkling in the reflection, looking up and over to the Delft. There was no need to give him any more helm orders; the American could lay the schooner alongside the Delft using the last of her way.

The Dutch musketry was now nearly deafening; the sound of balls ricocheting off metal fittings and guns varied from a sharp ping to clangs like pealing church bells. Now the Delft's taffrail was abreast the foremast and the Nuestra Senora was making perhaps two knots. Now abreast the mainmast Throw those grapnels, men - high and true!'

There was a great thud as the schooner's hull caught the Delft's side, but everyone was expecting it. Then Ramage realized that all the sails, with their great booms and gaffs, had dropped several moments before and he had not noticed the crashing and flapping as he concentrated on the Delft. And there was Rossi, calmly stuffing spluttering port fires into the folds of the mainsail.

Ramage took the silver whistle which was slung round his neck on a piece of line. One last glance round. The grapnels were holding the two ships together and the men were out of the rigging. There was no sign of wounded men lying on deck - a miracle in view of the rattling musketry, but until a few moments ago the Dutchmen were trying to hit men running around on a moving vessel.

'Abandon ship!' he bellowed, and put the whistle to his lips and blew a piercing note, and suddenly the whistle seemed to explode and everything went black.