Ramage's Diamond

CHAPTER NINE

Two nights later Ramage stood on the quarterdeck with Wagstaffe, who was the officer of the deck, as the Juno stretched northwards under topsails only. It was a dark night, large banks of cloud frequently covering three-quarters of the sky and blacking out the stars. The glass was steady but by midnight there could be either a clear sky or pouring rain. Ramage grumbled to himself about the unpredictability of tropical weather.

Once again Wagstaffe called to the lookouts on either bow, and again both answered that there was no sign of Diamond Rock. The young lieutenant was nervous and Ramage was trying to decide if he should tell him not to keep hailing the lookouts unnecessarily: they knew well enough what they were looking for and would hail the moment they sighted it. He now wished he had not taken the Juno so close to the Rock, but the cloud had thickened only in the last half an hour. Anyway he could bear away out to the westward at any moment and be sure of clearing it, but bearing away was just the sort of thing that allowed the damned droghers and schooners to sneak up the coast, pass through the Fours Channel between Diamond Rock and Diamond Hill and get into Fort Royal. They would be impossible to sight from seaward, hidden against the high land.

He would stay on this course. For the next few weeks they were going to be staying close in to Diamond at night and the sooner everyone got used to the idea the better. The cloud seemed to be getting lower and the wind was freshening: there was a sudden chill which gave warning that it was going to rain in a couple of minutes. He turned to Orsini and said: 'Go below and fetch oilskins - mine is on the hook outside the door. And fetch Mr Wagstaffe's and your own at the same time.'

Damn the rain: it would cut visibility to a hundred yards or less. As the Rock carried deep water right up to its side from the south, there was no point in having a man in the chains with a lead. He was still torn between bearing away and carrying on so that Wagstaffe should gain confidence. Then he decided that Wagstaffe's confidence was less important than the safety of the ship. As he turned towards the lieutenant there was a scurry of feet and a man loomed up out of the darkness: 'Rossi, sir, lookout on the starboard bow. There's a sail close under our starboard bow a cable off: I dare not shout!'

'Very well,' Ramage snapped, 'warn the man at the mainchains not to shout either. Get back forward and tell the other man to keep a sharp lookout to larboard.'

He turned to Wagstaffe: 'Send the men to quarters, but no shouting!'

He strained his eyes over to starboard but could see nothing. Now the rain was coming, and he groped in the binnacle box drawer for the night glass. He swung it from ahead to far round on the quarter, but nothing was visible in the darkness and he moved it slowly forward again, resting his arms on the top of the binnacle box. There was a hint of greyness out there, a patch not quite as black as the rest of the night, but he lost it as a squall of rain swept the deck. The shape was distinctive enough - the sails of a schooner on almost the same course as the Juno and perhaps two hundred yards ahead on the starboard bow.

He hurried over to the larboard side, almost knocking over Orsini, who held out oilskin coats. He balanced himself and looked over the bow, hoping the squall would not have reached out that far yet. What he saw was the similar grey shape of another schooner! There was no doubt about it; he had spent too many years allowing for the inverted image shown in a night glass.

He sensed rather than heard men hurrying to quarters. Aitken came up in the darkness, buckling on his sword, followed almost immediately by Southwick. He looked around for the Marine Lieutenant and called him over.

The three officers gathered round him and Wagstaffe edged over to hear as much as he could. There was no time to wait for the Third and Fourth Lieutenants.

'Two French schooners, one on either bow, on the same course,' Ramage said crisply. 'Probably privateers packed full of men. Perhaps even French troops. I think they are waiting for the rain to stop, then the moment the sky starts clearing and they can see they'll try to board us, one on each side.’

Southwick gave one of his famous sniffs. 'They must think we're all asleep.'

'When Rossi spotted the first one, it was more than a cable away. I wonder -'

Ramage broke off: it was not for the Captain of a ship to wonder aloud, but why were these schooners planning an attack on the Juno when they had left the Welcome brig and Captain Eames's frigate alone? Was a convoy expected or did they fear an attack on the frigate anchored off Fort Royal?

He turned to Orsini. 'Run forward, boy. Warn all lookouts not to shout. Tell the larboard lookout there's a second schooner on the larboard bow and stay there yourself, ready to bring back more reports. The lookouts will have lost sight of them in this squall.'

He left his officers standing by the binnacle and walked aft thinking hard. He pictured the two schooners sailing back into Fort Royal tomorrow morning with half their complement on board the Juno and a Tricolour flying above the British ensign. That was what the Governor of Fort Royal intended and what the men in the schooners hoped for. It would, he thought, be a great pity to disappoint any of them.

Yet the risk to the Juno would be enormous if he carried out the plan forming in his mind. If he failed, and was still alive, a court martial would find him guilty of anything Admiral Davis wanted to charge him with. No more risky, he argued, than taking the Juno into action against another frigate. And a convoy must be due . . . He swung round, rejoined the lieutenants and Southwick, and found that the two remaining lieutenants had arrived.

Orsini scurried up to report that Rossi had sighted the starboard schooner again in the same relative position but they had not managed to sight the one to larboard. 'Tell 'em to keep a sharp lookout,' Ramage snapped, 'the second one is there all right.'

He turned to the officers. 'There's not much time, so listen carefully. I want those two schooners to try to board us. I want them alongside, hooked on with grappling irons, because I want to capture them undamaged. The only way we can do it is by surprise. Let them think they are surprising us: they'll range alongside and start boarding on both sides. Then we surprise them: the whole ship's company will be crouching down behind the bulwarks, waiting for the word to repel boarders. That means we have a hundred men on each side to fight off perhaps a hundred in each scooner, but their freeboard is low, and they'll have to climb up our sides. We stand a good chance of succeeding. I want to capture those schooners undamaged,' he repeated.

Swiftly Ramage gave each of his lieutenants his orders, starting with the Marine officer. As each received his instructions he glided away into the darkness to gather his men, check their arms and make sure they had their instructions.

Finally there were only a dozen seamen and Southwick on the quarterdeck with Ramage, apart for the quartermaster and four men at the wheel. Ramage had doubled the number of men usually at the wheel in case of casualties. The dozen seamen were the former Tritons.

While Aitken and the other lieutenants made sure the rest of the ship's company (including those in the sick bay, since all of them could handle pistols) were equipped with muskets or pistols, boarding pikes, cutlasses or tomahawks, Ramage gave his orders to the dozen men and Southwick. The old Master was almost chuckling with excitement at the prospect of action. He had an enormous sword slung from a belt over his shoulder - a sword Ramage always called 'The Cleaver' - and a brace of pistols tucked in his belt. The dozen former Tritons carried a variety of weapons - apart from a pair of pistols, Ramage had let them choose what other weapons they wanted. Jackson and Stafford had cutlasses, Rossi a pike with a tomahawk tucked blade uppermost into his belt.

Ramage's instructions were brief: the former Tritons and the master would remain on the quarterdeck and were not to move until Ramage gave the word: they were to act as a reserve and would only join the fight at a point round the bulwarks where it looked as though the French might break through. 'But,' Ramage had warned them grimly, 'remember that as soon as you can you must get back to the quarterdeck: there might be some other place that needs reinforcement. The moment you get back here remember to reload those barkers: if there are soldiers on board these schooners, they'll know how to use swords ...'

'And yourself, sir?' Jackson said, and Ramage realized he had neither sword nor pistols. 'I'll be back in a moment, sir,' the American said and ran below.

Orsini appeared again to report that the two schooners were in sight now, both in the same relative positions, according to the new lookouts. Ramage looked at the boy. 'Have you a pistol, Paolo?' he asked.

'Under my jacket, sir,' he said. 'To keep the powder dry in case there's another squall.'

Ramage thought of the boy's dirk, perhaps Paolo's proudest possession, but little use in the kind of fighting that would soon be sweeping over the Juno's decks. 'Find yourself a cutlass, boy; don't rely on that dirk. Get forward now, and keep me informed.'

He thought of the afternoon in London when Gianna had asked him to take her nephew to sea with him. He had refused at first, picturing the day when the ship would go into action and he would be torn between sending Paolo to some safe position or letting him do whatever task was appropriate to a midshipman even though he stood a good chance of being killed or maimed. Gianna had insisted that he should not be treated differently from any other midshipman and Ramage had allowed himself to be persuaded. Now with the ship about to go into action he had decided to do as Gianna wished. Paolo was going to have his first taste of battle. If he survived he would not only be proud of his role but he would make a better officer.

Jackson was standing there holding the sword and belt in one hand and the pair of pistols in the other. 'With the compliments of the Marchesa, sir,' he said cheerfully. 'I left the case down below. Don't reckon there'll be much time for reloading.'

Rossi helped him out of his coat and he slipped the sword belt over his shoulder, put on the coat again and took the pistols, reflecting that it was a long way from Bond Street and Mr Prater's shop in Charing Cross. In the meantime the two French schooners were sailing along as though the Juno was their flagship. In the blackness on either bow scores of eyes were watching at this very moment, looking for any change in the frigate's sails. That would be their first warning that she was altering course. They would be cheerful and confident of surprising the British, however, because the Juno had kept on the same course and there had been no drum-roll sending men to quarters and no shrilling of bos'n's calls. As far as the French were concerned she was jogging along under topsails only, with only half a dozen sleepy lookouts, the men at the wheel, a quartermaster and the officer of the deck on their feet and the rest of the watch probably snatching naps.

He looked over to windward, towards the dark mass of Martinique itself, and saw that the cloud was beginning to break up slightly. Since the schooners could now be seen clearly from the Juno, he could expect the attack at any moment. They would edge over slowly on converging courses, then slow down and crash alongside as the frigate came up between them, to slaughter the sleeping rosbifs. He looked over each bow with the night glass, spotted the schooners and decided there was time for him to walk round the ship, to see the men and give them a word of encouragement and a word of warning. An accidentally-fired pistol or musket now would ruin everything.

It was a quick inspection: every moment he expected a messenger from Southwick, who had the conn temporarily, warning him that the schooners were altering course . . .

The men were excited but they had learned their lesson. Those with pistols were anxious to show him that they had them at half cock; those with cutlasses wanted to assure him that the blades had been sharpened on the grindstone. One or two of them had strips of cloth tied round their foreheads - to stop the rain running into their eyes if there was another squall, he supposed.

Then he cursed himself: the problem facing them if any of the French managed to get on board would be identifying friend from foe. He turned to Aitken, who was walking beside him, and said urgently: 'Send Benson and half a dozen men down to the Surgeon. I want enough white cloth to make every man a headband. Bring up sheets, bandages - anything that's white and will tear into strips and see that every man wears one, the lieutenants as well. And tell the men they're free to kill anyone without a headband.'

Aitken hissed the order to Benson, who whispered to the nearest half dozen seamen and vanished below with them. Ramage said: 'Everything is a credit to you, Mr Aitken. If we can only be sure the men will stay silent until the last moment . . .' With that he went back to the quarterdeck and told Stafford to find Benson and collect enough white cloth to make headbands for everyone on the quarterdeck, the men at the wheel and the quartermaster included.

Five minutes later the cloud began clearing quickly from the eastward. The Juno's quarterdeck was apparently almost deserted; a night glass on one of the schooners would show only the officer of the deck and half a dozen other men, including those at the wheel. But crouched down below the bulwarks on both sides of the Juno were nearly two hundred men, each with a white headband tied securely round his forehead.

Southwick, crouching down and peering through the aftermost quarterdeck gunport, the white headband barely visible below his flowing white hair, said quietly: 'The one to starboard is beginning to close in.'

Jackson, also stretching over a gun and peering through a port on the larboard side, hissed: 'The one this side is doing the same, sir; bearing up on to a converging course.'

Ramage walked to the forward end of the quarterdeck with the night glass and looked at both ships. They were acting together, the windward one easing sheets and coming crabwise down to leeward, the one to larboard hardening sheets a trifle and bearing up. It was difficult to judge, since the sails were ill-defined in the darkness, but they would crash alongside in about three minutes.

There was no need for lookouts any more. He tapped Stafford on the shoulder: 'Go round the ship and tell the lookouts to go to their positions for repelling boarders; bring Mr Orsini back here.'

The French were patient and confident: they could have crashed alongside fifteen minutes ago, when it was really dark, but they had waited for the cloud to clear and give them the advantage of intermittent starlight. That needed courage. The two schooner captains must have been fighting their impatience and anxiety to attack before the rosbifs spotted them, but they had waited, believing that almost complete darkness would increase their own problems more than the risk of discovery. They needed a little light, even if it doubled the risk of the Juno's lookouts spotting them. These were cool fellows, and Ramage wondered if they were in fact privateersmen. From the way they had waited and were now manoeuvring, they were more likely to be manned by French naval officers and disciplined men from the two frigates, and probably carrying a few score French troops to carry out the actual boarding. He was up against trained men, not the usual cut-and-run privateersmen whose only concern was loot.

As the schooners converged so that they were now only fifty yards apart more banks of cloud came up from the east. They were taking an enormous risk that they would be sighted ... Not so enormous now, he corrected himself: both those schooner captains think that even if they are sighted at this very moment the Juno has only two minutes to send the ship's company to quarters. The French think they have only to deal with the watch on deck, with the watch below scrambling up sleepily, unarmed and bewildered ...

Through the night glass he saw the big sails begin to broaden: they were easing sheets, slowing down to let the Juno sail between them. Southwick was beside him now, crouched down and peering over the quarterdeck rail. 'They know what they're up to, those fellows,' he whispered.

‘They certainly do,' Ramage muttered grimly. 'I'm wondering if they'll get suspicious if we don't give some indication soon that we've sighted them.'

'Leave it until the last moment, sir,' Southwick advised. 'There's not much they can do now except get alongside, even if they do get suspicious. If one of our men gives a shout when they're almost alongside it'd be enough.'

Stafford was back with Orsini now, and Ramage told the boy to hurry round and tell the lieutenants that a minute or less before the schooners came alongside there would be a shout from the quarterdeck. 'But,' Ramage emphasized, 'tell them they are to stay out of sight and do nothing until they hear me shout, "Repel boarders!" '

Orsini repeated the instructions and disappeared into the darkness.

The schooners were barely the length of the Juno ahead and edging in. It was excellent seamanship, and he pictured the scores of Frenchmen crouching down on the schooners' decks, pistols, pikes and cutlasses ready, waiting to leap up the Juno's sides.

'Steer small, blast it!' he hissed at the men at the wheel as the Juno yawed. It would be ironical if she rammed one of the schooners accidentally. Ironical and dangerous because it would probably smash the frigate's jibboom, if not the bowsprit as well.

Now he could see each schooner's transom clearly, and started worrying about whether the schooner to windward had made allowances for her main and foresail booms, which were now protruding several feet over the lee side and likely to hit the Juno. More irony, but he was anxious to capture both vessels undamaged. If one of them escaped his whole plan would have failed.

The Juno's jibboom was now level with the transom of both schooners, and because of the frigate's forward movement the two French vessels seemed to be moving astern. He would wait until their transoms were abreast the foremast, then imitate a lookout's warning. They were abreast now!

'Sail close to larboard!' he yelled in an alarmed voice and took a firm grip on the speaking trumpet.

A heavy thump to starboard, another to larboard, the scraping of wood against wood and metal against metal, the slatting of canvas and a rasping hiss as the schooner to windward let her main halyards go at a run, and then uproar: a fantastic medley of French cheers and curses, threats and orders.

Fear hit him like a blast of cold air as he kept glancing from side to side for the first sign of a French head over the bulwarks. Yes, to larboard! He jammed the speaking trumpet to his mouth. 'Repel boarders! Come on, Junos, let every shot count!'

Suddenly the frigate's bulwarks were swarming with men. Some seamen perched on the hammock nettings were firing into the schooners; others hung over the nettings slashing down with cutlasses. More were squeezing through the ports and jabbing with boarding pikes. Pistols and muskets were going off along both sides with the curious popping that never sounded dangerous. There was a rattle and a crash as the schooner to leeward lowered its mainsail and a moment later the foresail came crashing down. From the screams that followed Ramage guessed that the gaff had landed on men below.

'We're holding 'em,' Southwick said excitedly.

'They haven't sorted themselves out yet,' Ramage snapped.

He saw grapnels with ropes attached being thrown up on to the Juno's decks: the French weren't risking the ships drifting apart, and this should help him more than them.

Southwick suddenly pointed with his sword: 'There, sir, by the starboard forechains!'

The Junos were being forced down to the deck and Frenchmen were swarming over the hammock nettings, screaming and yelling. The flash of pistol shots flickered across the deck. Ramage waited: his dozen former Tritons were the only reserve. Let the French get right down on the deck; it was easier for the Junos to get at them there.

The white headbands were effective and showed up well. Now the French were bursting over by the mainchains; a dozen or more had reached the deck and he saw a group of Junos dash into the middle of them. They were being held off along the larboard side, but more were pouring at the same two places on the starboard side.

'More'n a hundred o' them to starboard,' Southwick growled.

Ramage still felt chilled although the fear was going. He began rubbing at the scar on his brow but found the white band in his way. How many Frenchmen were down there? The two masses of men moved like clumps of seaweed in a swirling current. There were few pistol and musket shots now; just the clang of cutlass against cutlass and the screams of men cut down. Slowly the two groups were melting into one. The Junos were holding their own the rest of the way aft along the starboard side and all along the larboard side, but the group of Frenchmen was growing as more men poured over the bulwark.

There was no chance of the Junos holding them there: the men covering that section must have been killed or wounded. Down in the schooner someone was directing the boarders, sending up more men wherever they would be most effective. They had found the weak spot along the Juno's side and were quick to exploit it. If another twenty Frenchmen got on board the Juno she might be overwhelmed.

'Southwick, take the conn,' he yelled, 'You Tritons, follow me!'

Before he could move, wrenching at his sword and holding a pistol in his left hand, there was a shout of protest from Southwick: "Tis not for you to fight off boarders, sir! You handle the ship! Follow me, men!'

Before Ramage could stop him the old man, sword whirling over his head, ran to the quarterdeck ladder, bellowing: 'Junos, come on, m'lads, cut 'em to pieces!'

Jackson and Stafford were close behind him, yelling their heads off, and the rest of the seamen followed. A startled and angry Ramage found himself on the quarterdeck with only the four men at the wheel and the quartermaster. He thrust the pistol back in his belt, thought better of it and sheathed his sword instead. He took out the second pistol, cocked them both and ran to the starboard side. The schooner's taffrail was below and five yards forward, and he could just make out men grouped round the binnacle. In the flash of a musket shot fired from the schooner's deck he saw that two of the men were wearing uniform. They were staring up at the Juno's mainchains.

He aimed carefully at one of the men and fired. Though the flash blinded him momentarily he thought he saw the man fall. Hurriedly switching pistols, he saw the second uniformed man crouching over the first, who had fallen to the deck. Again he aimed carefully, cursing the excitement that made his hand tremble like a leaf in the breeze. He held his breath for a moment and fired again, and saw the second man collapse.

With luck they were the captain and first lieutenant, though whether their loss would make any difference now he did not know. He should have put Marine sharpshooters round the quarterdeck, but he had forgotten. He ran to the quarterdeck rail and looked forward. Along the larboard side there was fighting on the deck but the only Frenchmen who had managed to get on board were being dealt with. To starboard the group of Frenchmen on the Juno's deck was being broken up: men without white headbands were running in all directions, bolting, trying to find somewhere to hide from flashing cutlasses and jabbing pikes.

He saw Southwick's white hair in the midst of the mêlée; even above the din he could hear the old man yelling encouragement as he swept left and right with his great sword. Paolo's small figure was beside him wielding a cutlass and screaming excitedly in high-pitched Italian. Ramage could distinguish a scream of blasphemy that would have made a hardened Neapolitan brigand blench.

He stood helpless at the quarterdeck rail, separated from the fighting and holding two empty pistols. Dare he leave the quartermaster to cover the quarterdeck? He looked back along the larboard side again and was surprised to see that there was now very little movement. Men with white headbands were back on the hammock nettings - damnation, not just on the nettings but going over the ship's side, down into the schooner, with Aitken standing at the break of the gangway waving his sword and leading the men! There were bodies lying all round the guns but he was thankful to see that only a few of them wore the white headbands.

On the starboard side Southwick's men were slowly breaking up the group of Frenchmen. He saw two French turn and bolt back to the bulwarks, obviously trying to jump back on board the schooner. A third man followed, and then three more.

Further aft, only a few yards away from him, Wagstaffe was standing up in the hammock nettings surrounded by Junos and a moment later he vanished from sight and the nettings cleared of men. Ramage ran to the side and looked down, watching Wagstaffe lead his men aft along the schooner's deck. More Junos were dropping down and suddenly a group of French appeared, scrambling over the nettings from the frigate's deck, some falling in their haste, and tumbling down to the schooner. A moment later Southwick was standing on the nettings above them, his sword waving. He leapt down on to the schooner's deck, followed by a dozen or more men with white headbands.

Except for sprawled figures, the Juno's decks were now clear. Ramage ran from one side to the other frantically trying to distinguish what was going on in the darkness. From the deck of the schooner to larboard he could hear Aitken's voice, the Scots accent very strong, shouting orders, not yells of encouragement. The Marine Lieutenant was bellowing at his men to form up aft. Well, he thought grimly, that schooner is secured. He ran back to the starboard side in time to see Southwick leading his men in a rush aft to a knot of Frenchmen who were standing with their backs to the taffrail. There was shouting, though he could not distinguish the words, but Southwick had paused. Now he could see Frenchmen throwing down their swords and pikes in surrender.

His knees were shaky, his hands trembling, his stomach queasy. He wanted to giggle, and he wanted to talk to someone. He only just stopped himself from clapping the quartermaster on the back. Three minutes ago he had been afraid he had failed and that the Juno would be taken.

Benson, waving a cutlass, was trying to catch his attention. 'Message from Mr Aitken, sir: he -' the boy realized he was gabbling and made an effort to keep his voice even. 'Mr Aitken's respects, sir, and the schooner to larboard is secured.'

'Very well, Benson,' Ramage said. 'My compliments to Mr Aitken, and ask him to report to me as soon as he finds it convenient'

The boy ran off, and Ramage hoped he would remember the exact wording: Aitken would appreciate the 'convenient'. Then Jackson was standing in front of him, white band askew, the blade of his cutlass dark. 'Mr Wagstaffe has the schooner to starboard under command, sir, but he said to tell you it'll be half an hour before he's ready to get under way.'

Ramage laughed, a laugh which nearly got out of control. 'Very well, Jackson, my compliments to Mr Wagstaffe and tell him to let me know how many prisoners he has.'

'The French captain and the first lieutenant are dead, sir; we found 'em lying together by the binnacle. She's called La Mutine and was manned by French seamen with soldiers for boarders.'

As the American hurried forward again, Ramage realized he was still clutching his empty pistols and jammed them into the band of his breeches. They had proved accurate enough, although they were only as effective as the man that held them, and he had used them too late. If he had thought of picking off the two officers a few minutes earlier ... if, if, if ... Always, after an action, came the ifs, and before dawn he would have thought of plenty more. If he had done this he would have saved a dozen men's lives at the starboard mainchains; if he had done that he would have saved a dozen more to larboard. Mistakes he had made - no Marine sharpshooters for example - and probably some which would become apparent within the next few hours. Mistakes that only he might know about, but which had killed men unnecessarily . . .

The Juno was still under way, dragging the schooners along with her, each being held by the grapnels thrown on board the frigate by the confident Frenchmen. Aitken was standing in front of him, his left hand jammed into his jacket, which was buttoned, and a dark stain on his left shoulder. 'Baker and the Marine lieutenant have everything under command down there, sir. About three dozen prisoners, with the Marines guarding them. Twenty or thirty Frenchmen dead and as many more wounded.'

'Our own casualties?' Ramage asked quietly.

'About a dozen dead and wounded to larboard, I should think, sir. I have parties going round attending to the wounded, and Mr Bowen has half a dozen men helping him.'

'Very well,' Ramage said soberly, 'we were very lucky.'

'Lucky?' Aitken was too startled to say 'sir', and added: 'It all worked perfectly!'

Ramage turned back to the quarterdeck rail. Perhaps it had worked out perfectly so far, but none of them realized that up to now they had carried out barely a third of his plan: the hardest part was yet to come.

Two hours before dawn Ramage was weary but still excited. He had questioned the captain of the larboard schooner for half an hour and by playing alternately on the Frenchman's pride and his fear of what was going to happen now he was a prisoner, had managed to discover what the French had intended.

The two schooners, La Mutine and La Créole, had been taken over by the French Navy the day before the Juno sailed into Fort Royal Bay, and the first lieutenants of the two frigates had been put in command. Each had forty men taken from the frigates and embarked seventy soldiers from the 53rd Regiment. Their mission, the French lieutenant had said, was to board the Juno simultaneously from each side and take her into Fort Royal. After that the Frenchman would say no more. Ramage guessed that the man had decided it was proper to discuss the operation, but the way he had then refused further information made Ramage suspect him of hiding a great deal more than he revealed.

He had just signalled to the two Marines to take the Frenchman away when Aitken came into the cabin, obviously excited. The moment the Marines and their prisoner had left he said: 'Orsini and Rossi, sir: they've found an Italian among the prisoners who wants to quit the French and serve with us! He's a quartermaster and seems an intelligent fellow.'

'Fetch him in - but I'll talk to Orsini first'

The midshipman was almost giggling with excitement. He and several seamen, including Rossi, were guarding prisoners, he told Ramage, when Rossi had made some comment in Italian. One of the prisoners immediately spoke - 'In the accent of Genoa,' Orsini said, with all the contempt of one who spoke with the clear accent of Tuscany.

'Go on, boy,' Ramage said impatiently. 'What did he want?'

'We took him away from the other prisoners - in case any more of them spoke Italian - to see what he wanted. It seems he comes from a village twenty miles from Genoa. When Bonaparte invaded Genoa and renamed it the Ligurian Republic, many able-bodied men were forced to serve in the Army and Navy. They had no choice, this man says.'

Ramage nodded: he could not imagine the French giving able-bodied men any choice. Rossi had been fortunate in quitting the Republic before the French arrived (indeed, Ramage suspected the police were after him). So this prisoner might well have been serving the French against his will and, like Rossi, might prefer to serve in the Royal Navy. Well, he thought grimly, that depends on how much he knows and how much he tells.

'Anyway, sir,' the boy continued eagerly, 'this man – his name is Zolesi - told us that the Governor will be very angry that the schooners failed to capture the Juno: apparently a convoy is due very soon, and he wants us out of the way.'

Ramage stared at the boy. ' "Very soon" - he said that?'

When Orsini repeated the Italian phrase, mimicking the Genoese accent, Ramage said impatiently, 'Fetch the man. And bring Rossi.'

Zolesi was a stocky man with fair hair and blue eyes, and Ramage guessed that his forebears were mountain folk. He saluted smartly but Rossi, holding a pistol, watched him warily. He began by speaking to Rossi, expecting he would translate, but the seaman said: ‘The captain speaks Italian.'

Ramage, impatient to question Zolesi about the convoy, had first to listen to the man's request to be allowed to serve in the Royal Navy. His story sounded plausible and Ramage noticed Rossi nodding as he described how the French sent naval press-gangs and army squads through the streets, rounding up all able-bodied men.

Finally Ramage interrupted him. There were a few questions, based on what the French lieutenant had said, which would check the man's reliability.

'You were serving in La Mutine?’

'For this operation, sir.'

'Before that?'

'In La Désirée. Forty of us were sent to the schooner. And seventy soldiers.'

'What regiment?'

The man's brow wrinkled. 'The 53rd Regiment, sir.’

'Who commanded La Mutine?’

The first lieutenant of La Désirée. He was killed, sir.'

Ramage nodded. 'Is the Surcouf ready for sea?'

'Not yet, sir, but they are working hard.'

"And La Désirée?’

'Accidente!’Zolesi exclaimed. 'They are short of everything: yards, rope, canvas, wood for repairs, blocks, hammocks - everything!'

'Yet the French expect to commission her?'

sOh yes, once the convoy arrives.'

'But that has been delayed,' Ramage said, deciding that Zolesi was not likely to lie in this type of conversation, and the Italian's reply was just what he wanted.

'Delayed, sir? But it's expected within a week! A week - from today, in fact. Have the British captured it?'

Ramage shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don't know, but it's not a large convoy anyway.'

'I don't know how big it is, sir, but the French are terrified of something happening to it. That's why the two schooners were sent out to capture this ship.'

'Will they send out more?'

Zolesi shook his head expressively. 'No! There was a good deal of trouble over these two. They were privateers and the owners refused to let the Navy use them.' Seeing Ramage's puzzled expression, he added: ‘The Governor took them over by decree.'

'But why no more attempts?'

‘I heard the privateer owners sent a deputation to the Governor, swearing that if he tried to take over any more the owners would sink them first.'

'What did the Governor say?' Ramage asked curiously.

'I heard he was very worried: the owners of the privateers are powerful men in Martinique. Now you have captured these two . . .' Zolesi stood with his arms spread out in front of him, palms upturned.

Ramage nodded to Rossi and said in English, 'Take him away and keep him separated from the others.'

'Can he ...’ He broke off, obviously worried that Ramage would think him impertinent.

'Keep him apart and see what else he knows about the convoy and the French defences in Fort Royal. And anything more about the other frigate. You can hint that he'll be allowed to enlist - and get the bounty, too!'

By now all the unwounded from the two schooners were being guarded by the Juno's Marines. The bos'n and his mates were busy sewing the dead men into hammocks ready for funerals at daybreak, with the gunner cursing that it was going to be a waste of roundshot until Ramage pointed out that there was plenty in the schooners, and it was more appropriate that Frenchmen should be buried at sea with French roundshot sewn into the foot of their hammocks.

Ramage sent for Aitken and Southwick and when they arrived he told them to sit down. The First Lieutenant was holding himself a little stiffly, the result of a bandage Bowen had put on the shoulder to cover a gash from a French pike. Ramage asked if they wanted hot drinks - the galley fire had been lit earlier to give the men a hot breakfast and provide Bowen with the hot water he demanded for the treatment of some of the badly wounded men. When both men refused, Ramage handed Aitken the sick list that Bowen had scribbled out and sent up to him. Nine Junos had been killed, seven seriously wounded and eighteen more had wounds that needed treatment but which allowed them, in an emergency, to go to general quarters.’

The First Lieutenant, his face drawn with weariness but his eyes still bright, passed it to Southwick. 'The figures are fantastic, sir. That's 139 French dead and wounded as against thirty-four Junos killed or wounded, and eighteen of ours were little more than scratches.'

'Surprise,’ grunted Southwick. 'That's what did it. Johnny Frenchman was too confident. The French were just standing there in both schooners, a solid mass of men waiting to leap on board. The Junos just leaned over the hammock nettings and fired right down into them!'

'We were damn' nearly too confident, too,' Ramage said.

Southwick sniffed, 'Well, sir, I'd better report on the schooners. The Mutine's foresail is badly torn and the gaff's broken. They dropped the sail in a hurry and the gaff crushed a couple of their own men. The sail's being repaired and the carpenter is fishing the gaff. It's a long break, so it isn't too difficult. Decks cut up with pistol and musket shots, a few shrouds parted - they're already knotted - and she'll be ready to get under way in an hour. The French had forty seamen on board; we can manage with ten. La Créole suffered no damage to speak of, except for bullet holes in the deck. She can get under way the moment you give the order. I've chosen the two prize crews, as you told me to. It's just a question of...'

'Exactly,' Ramage said, 'who is to command them,'

Aitken nodded. 'It'll take a week to sail 'em to Barbados and get our men back - perhaps more.'

'We needn't worry about Barbados for the time being,' Ramage said, and both men looked up quickly, obviously puzzled. Ramage decided to tease them for a little longer.

‘That Tricolour, Southwick: have Jackson and Rossi finished it yet?'

'No, sir. It's so big. It's taken all the red cloth we have on board including the red baize. I hope you won't be ordering many floggings ...'

'You won't regret it,' Ramage said enigmatically. 'I hope the other men have finished the smaller Red Ensigns.'

'I forgot to tell you, sir, we have three or four on board we can use, apart from the ones in the flag locker.'

Ramage nodded. 'Anyway, we have to decide who is to command the ships.' Southwick gave yet another sniff. It was clear that he considered taking a schooner to Barbados with a prize crew was an easy voyage to be left to the master's mate in one and perhaps the Fourth Lieutenant in the other.

Ramage thought the time had come to stop teasing both the Master and Aitken, but could not resist one last dig.

'I was thinking of putting you in command of La Créole, Aitken, and I hope Wagstaffe can manage La Mutine.'

The First Lieutenant's jaw dropped, and even though the light from the lanthorn was dim, Ramage saw that he had gone white. He realized that Aitken thought he had failed in his duties during the night's attack and was being put in command of the schooner to get him out of the way to allow another of the lieutenants to be promoted in his place.

Ramage reached out and touched his arm reassuringly. 'Cheer up, Aitken. Listen to me for a minute or two and after that you will be perfectly free to refuse the command and stay on board the Juno.’

Aitken swallowed and tried to smile, while Southwick looked completely puzzled, as though he feared for his Captain's sanity.

'Some time this morning,' Ramage said quietly, 'the French Governor in Fort Royal, and the naval commander, will be expecting to see La Créole and La Mutine sailing into Fort Royal Bay, escorting the Juno with a Tricolour flying above the Red Ensign ...'

He paused for a moment to make sure both men pictured the scene.

'On a Sunday morning everyone will be out in the streets cheering and I wouldn't be surprised if the guns of Fort St Louis began firing a feu de joie. The schooners will sail up to the anchorage, tack and wear round the Surcouf frigate a couple of times to show off. The French prize crew will bring the Juno in and prepare to anchor her close to the Surcouf. Just imagine the scene with everyone cheering and yelling, the crews of the schooners lining the bulwarks and waving, and the French prize crews on board the rosbif frigate Juno manning the rigging, singing revolutionary songs, no doubt.'

'But, but sir,' Aitken stammered. 'The French haven't captured the Juno!'

'No, indeed they have not,' Ramage said quietly, 'but the Governor of Fort Royal doesn't know that yet.'