Ramage's Diamond

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The sky to the eastward was gradually turning pink beyond the mountains of Martinique early next morning as the Juno's capstan slowly revolved with Bevins, the fiddler, standing on top and scratching out a tune to encourage the men straining at the capstan bars.

Ramage stood at the quarterdeck rail, affecting a nonchalant stance to disguise the tension gripping him. The Juno was about to set out on her shortest voyage, less than half a mile, and he was as nervous as a kitten hearing its first dog bark. The ten-inch cable used to tow the Surcouf was now amidships, the first hundred fathoms of it flaked down and ready to run, only this time it would be running upwards.

The launch was towing astern with an anchor slung ready beneath it; another cable was flaked out on the quarterdeck ready to bend on to it. The two cutters were also astern, ready to tow the frigate to its final position, and the topmen were waiting ready for the order to go aloft. The jolly boat would be at the cove by now, and Aitken and his men should have started their long climb to the top of the Rock. The young Scot had been confident that he had found a route merely by examining the Rock through the telescope. Ramage, although doubtful, had not argued with him and he went off cheerfully before dawn, his men carrying rope ladders, axes, heavy mauls borrowed from the carpenter, sharpened stakes, speaking trumpet, and several coils of rope.

The Surcouf was lying head to wind, all her sails neatly furled on her yards, and only a dozen men on board. The First Lieutenant had worked well into the night to have the ship ready, returning to the Juno to report to Ramage at midnight, so exhausted that he was swaying as he spoke. Ramage had sent him off to snatch some sleep, telling him that it would take the Juno two or three hours to get into position so that he could sleep on, but Aitken had left orders that he was to be called at dawn.

Wagstaffe had tacked in towards the Rock with the Créole and was now stretching north again, and Ramage thought for a moment of La Mutine. She should have arrived in Barbados yesterday, and with luck she was now on her way back. By tonight or at the latest tomorrow morning he could expect Admiral Davis to arrive in the Invincible. There was barely time to get half the job done.

Slowly the frigate weighed as the sequence of reports and orders passed to and fro between the fo'c'sle and quarterdeck. The yards were already braced sharp up and the jibs were being hoisted but left to flap in the wind.

'Short stay!' came a shout from the fo'c'sle, warning Ramage that the anchor cable was making the same angle as the forestay. He put the speaking trumpet to his lips.

'Away aloft!'

The topmen swarmed up the rigging and his orders followed in quick succession. While men sheeted home the headsails he shouted aloft to the topmen: 'Trice up and lay out!' As soon as the men were out on the yards with the studding sail booms triced up out of the way he ordered the men on deck: 'Man the topsail sheets!' A moment later the topmen were being told to 'Let fall!' and as the sails tumbled down he gave a fresh order to the men on deck: 'Sheet home!'

By now the anchor was off the bottom and the Juno was gathering way. It would be two or three minutes before the anchor broke surface and only a few minutes more before the frigate would be anchoring again. He glanced up at the wind vane at the maintruck and then to the eastward, where the sun was just lifting over the mountains. So far, so good; at least the French convoy had not chosen this moment to round Pointe des Salines.

Fifteen minutes later the Juno had rounded up off the south side of the Rock and dropped anchor again, gathering sternway under a backed foretopsail, so that the cable thundered out through the starboard hawse, smoking with the friction.

As soon as Southwick signalled from the fo'c'sle how much cable had been veered, Ramage gave another series of orders which braced round the yards so that the Juno gathered way again and sailed a short distance before the foretopsail was backed once more and the larboard anchor let go as the Juno went astern in yet another sternboard. Within minutes the topmen were furling all the sails and the frigate was riding to her two anchors, the cables making an angle of forty-five degrees.

The Juno was now lying not quite parallel with the face of the cliff fifty yards away. The two cutters were going to have to pull her stern round towards the cliff while the launch was rowed astern to lay out the spare anchor that would hold her there in position. It was the lightest anchor in the ship and one which, in an emergency could be slipped and left behind.

Southwick came striding aft to join Ramage on the quarterdeck, and he wore the contented grin that Ramage knew from long experience meant that he approved of the way his Captain had handled the ship. 'Now to get those cutters towing,' he said gleefully, rubbing his hands. He looked up and commented: 'Y'know, sir, that's a damned tall cliff!'

‘I wish you'd mentioned that before,' Ramage said sarcastically. ‘It had almost escaped my attention.'

'Can't see Aitken up there yet.'

'Remember Pythagoras,' Ramags said. 'You're looking up the perpendicular side of what that poor beggar is scrambling up the hypotenuse!'

'They're used to it, these Scotsmen,' Southwick said, blithely ignoring Ramage's bad temper. 'All mountains in Scotland - goats and sheep and haggises, climbing all the time, they are. Especially the haggises,' he added before Ramage could correct him, 'very nimble they are, Aitken tells me.'

Ramage shook his head despairingly. 'Neither the Good Lord nor the First Lord has seen fit to spare me from a Master who is so damnably cheerful first thing in the morning. However, Mr Southwick, oblige me by putting those cutters to work: I have to lay this ship alongside that cliff before I can settle down to a leisurely breakfast.'

As soon as the men in the two cutters began rowing with the oars double-banked, Ramage ordered the quartermaster to put the wheel over; there might be enough current to give the ship a sheer larboard, which would help the oarsmen. Sure enough the frigate slowly swung in towards the cliff face, and the coxswains of both boats hurried their men to take up the slack.

Now it was the turn of the men in the waiting launch. The anchor was slung beneath the boat and the cable on the quarterdeck led down to it through the sternchase port. The oars were double-banked and the coxswain waited ready. Ramage gave the signal and the launch began to move away, heading almost directly astern of the Juno. Men on the quarterdeck slowly fed the cable through the port, careful to let out enough to help the launch, but not so much that the heavy rope hung down in too large a curve.

Southwick now had men bracing the yards round so they were as nearly fore and aft as possible. The Juno was going to end up so close to the cliff that the larboard ends of the yards - the mainyard overhung the ship's side by twenty-three feet - might otherwise foul the Rock.

Having done that the Master began supervising the rigging out of the lower studding sail booms on the larboard side. There were three of them, one abreast each mast, and they were shipped and then swung out at right angles from the ship's side at deck level, the outer ends held by topping lifts, with guys holding them fore and aft. Normally used to hold out the foot of the lower studding sails, they would now, Ramage hoped, act against the cliff face when they began hoisting the jackstay.

The launch was almost in position astern and Ramage waited with the speaking trumpet in his hand. If only he could see right down into the water he would know whether the anchor fell so that the cable led over a bank of sharp coral. If he waited another two or three minutes the launch might have moved slightly crabwise so that the cable would miss it. He shrugged his shoulders and hailed through the trumpet. He saw men slashing the strop holding the anchor and a few moments later the boat began bobbing about, floating higher as if it was suddenly freed of the weight of the anchor and the pull of cable, more of which snaked out through the port.

Southwick was already shouting to the two cutters to return to the ship, his voice echoing back from the cliff face. With the Juno now moored fore and aft parallel with the cliff and forty yards from it, there was little more to do until Aitken arrived at the top of the Rock - the top of the cliff, rather, Ramage corrected himself, remembering the double slope back from the cliff top to the peak of the Rock.

The Master was bustling round amidships, checking the cable that was going to be the jackstay, glaring at the voyol block as though it was an unruly dog, kicking at the five-inch rope that would eventually be rove through the two single blocks to make a gun tackle. Watching him, Ramage knew that he was worried about his next job. It took a lot to ruffle Southwick - many French broadsides, boarding enemy ships, and a full hurricane had so far failed, to Ramage's certain knowledge. No, Southwick was worried now because he was faced with a tricky task that was far beyond the scope of ordinary seamanship: he and his Captain were planning by guess rather than knowledge, and Southwick's only fear was that the whole jackstay system might not work; that they would fail to get the guns to the top of the Rock. Well, Ramage thought, the old man must know that his Captain is keeping him company; in fact they should be holding hands and comforting each other.

For the next half an hour he and Southwick had the men adjusting the three cables, veering a little on the starboard anchor cable and taking in a little on the larboard, so the Juno edged over a little more towards the cliff, and then taking up on the stern anchor so that she came away again. When they were ready, veering the stern cable would give the final adjustment.

They had just finished that when they heard a hail from high above and saw Aitken's tiny figure waving a speaking trumpet. A few moments later he was joined by other men, and Southwick shouted for a crew to man the jolly boat, which had returned to the ship an hour earlier.

Ramage watched Aitken and his men through a telescope. They were holding a small object and securing a line to it. A rock, no doubt, to make sure the line they were going to lower as a messenger would not blow in the wind and snag on a bush or a jutting piece of rock.

He saw Aitken suddenly bend back and then jerk forward, and a moment later a black speck began falling through the air, down towards the Juno's deck, trailing behind it what seemed from this distance to be a black thread. It fell into the sea half-way between the ship and the cliff and the jolly boat leapt forward to grab it before it swung back through the water against the foot of the cliff, and brought it back to the Juno.

The jackstay was very heavy, so much so that the Juno's capstan would be needed to hoist it up the cliff. The only way to do that, Ramage had calculated, was to use the tackle that would eventually haul the gun up the jackstay. But to begin with, until the tackle was completely rigged, Aitken's men were going to have to pull the first block and rope up to the top of the cliff.

Southwick supervised the men securing the block and rope to the line thrown down from the cliff, and then took the speaking trumpet and gave a stentorian bellow to Aitken. The line tautened and seamen eased the block and the heavier rope over the side and slowly, agonizingly slowly it seemed to Ramage, it began to rise as Aitken's men hauled away. Their task aloft was made harder by the need to keep some tension on the heavier rope to make sure that it did not swing into the cliff, where the block might jam in one of the fissures.

Finally the block and the heavier rope reached the top and Ramage watched through the telescope as men reached out to grab it. Quickly they took off the light line and made the block fast round a protruding rock, the three parts of the rope forming the upper end of the purchase leading back down in a gentle curve to the Juno's deck.

Southwick came up, rubbing his hands. 'Well, so much for the tackle, sir. The block is made up to the cable, and we can start hoisting whenever you give the word.'

Ramage looked forward to see that the hauling part, or fall, of the tackle was now led through a snatch block and then round the capstan and that men were waiting at the bars. The moment he gave the word they would start turning and the tackle would slowly hoist the heavy cable for the jackstay up towards Aitken.

'It's going to be easy getting the cable up,' Ramage said doubtfully, 'but I'm wondering how we are going to get the block at our end down again. They'll secure a heavy rock to it, I know, but if it starts twisting or jams against something on the cliff face -'

He did not complete the sentence because Southwick knew the risk. It was gun tackle pure and simple, and excellent so long as there was a strain on the block at either end. But once the strain was released the parts of the rope tended to twist, and in doing so spun any block that was not secure, in this case the lower one that had to be brought down to the Juno's deck again once the cable had been hoisted to the top.

'Leave it to Aitken, sir,' Southwick said. 'If he can get himself and his men up there, I'm sure he'll get that block down!'

Ramage nodded ruefully: it was not hard to make a decision because there was no choice, and for once he was thankful. 'Very well, let's see those men stepping out round the capstan!'

The capstan combined with the mechanical advantage of the gun tackle made the men's task easier, but before they finished they would have hoisted the best part of a ton up the cliff, since a hundred fathoms of ten-inch cable-laid rope weighed nineteen hundredweight. But a tackle was one of the best examples that Ramage knew of the old adage that 'You never get anything for nothing'. The three parts of the purchase reduced the amount of effort required to lift the cable, but it also meant that the lower block moved upwards much more slowly. The cable crawled and before it was a quarter of the way up the cliff face Ramage would have sworn it was not moving if he had not seen the seamen amidships hauling the rope clear as it came off the capstan and coiling it down.

'You must be hungry, sir,' Southwick said tactfully. 'It'll be an hour before there's much sign of progress here: more than time for you to have some breakfast'

Ramage's stomach was so knotted from the strain he had been under since dawn that it would be hard to force down any food, but he remembered the contempt he had felt, as a very young lieutenant, when he saw nervous captains fussing round on deck unnecessarily. Well, he had to admit that Nicolas Ramage was giving a very good imitation of a nervous captain, and Southwick's reminder that he had not eaten for many hours gave him a good excuse to go below.

A sharp rapping on the door woke him and Southwick came into the cabin. When he saw Ramage sprawled on the settee and rubbing his eyes he said apologetically: 'Sorry, sir, I didn't know you were asleep.'

'Just dozed off,' Ramage said blearily. 'I sat down for a moment and -' he took out his watch. 'Why, that was an hour ago!'

'You've had less sleep than any of us,' Southwick commented sympathetically. 'Anyway, sir, the jackstay is rigged! Aitken has his end of the cable secure round a rock and our end is led to the capstan ready. We're just waiting for Aitken to send down the block of the gun tackle.'

With that the Master left the cabin and Ramage went through to the bed place to wash his face. The cabin was hot and stuffy since there was little or no wind and the sun was getting high with some strength in it. He paused for a moment as he dried his face. They had taken two hours up to now, and judging by the time needed to get the jackstay up the cliff it would require three or four hours to sway up the first gun. If they finished by nightfall there would be tomorrow morning to get up the second gun and both carriages. After that, with the Juno safely back at her original anchorage, they were going to have to get another gun to the ledge half-way up the Rock on the other side. Could it be done before the French convoy arrived? If the French arrived too soon, all this work would be in vain. He shrugged his shoulders and finished drying his face. Admiral Davis might also arrive too soon and, if he disapproved, bring everything to a stop...

He arrived on the quarterdeck to find Southwick lying on his back, holding the telescope to his eye.

'Almost broke my neck trying to see what's happening up there, sir,' he explained as Ramage stared down at him. 'Much more comfortable lying down like this. Aitken has trouble. They've tied a heavy rock round the block and lashed both to a strop which should slide down the jackstay clear of the cliff, but 1 think the block keeps twisting. They shouted to us to haul it back again . . . Hmm, bless my soul!' he exclaimed. 'Why, they're signalling to start it off again.' He jumped up to make sure Lacey was paying out the rope, looked aloft and said: 'Now there's a man sitting in the strop overhauling themrope as he comes down!'

Ramage snatched a telescope from the binnacle drawer and stretched out on the deck. There was indeed someone in the strop, sitting like a child on a swing, and pulling down on one part of the rope to make it run through the sheaves more easily and help the rock work better, like the weight of a grandfather clock. It was a small person, that much was clear, and wearing white trousers and a short jacket. He raised himself onyone elbow and asked Southwick as casually as he could: 'Did Orsini go with Aitken?'

'Yes, sir,' the Master said, 'in fact I think that's him sitting up there.'

If the boy slipped out of the strop he would fall 500 feet. Why did Aitken let him do it? There was little doubt that Paolo had volunteered - indeed, he might well have suggested the whole thing in the first place - but why the devil did Aitken let him? A moment later he told himself coldly that someone had to do it; no officer should ask a seamen to do something he would not risk himself, and Paolo was a midshipman. Aitken had acted perfectly correctly. He would have asked for volunteers, and quite properly chosen the midshipman in preference to one of the seamen; it was a good lesson to young potential leaders. He could only hope that Paolo's letters to his aunt were not too explicit - he could imagine Gianna's reaction to Paolo's description of coming down the side of a 500-foot cliff sitting in a strop.

It took half an hour for the boy to get down to the ship's deck, and Ramage was relieved to see that he was in fact lashed into the strop. Eager seamen undid the lashing and as they waited for him to jump down the last couple of feet to the deck the boy lurched and pitched forward.

As the men hurried to pick him up, Ramage saw from the quarterdeck that the boy's body was held rigid, his buttock and thigh muscles cramped by sitting on the thin rope of the strop. Bowen ran forward and began massaging the muscles of his thighs and Ramage decided to wait for Paolo to report to him. He had been scrupulous so far in avoiding favouritism and all that mattered was that the boy was safely on the Juno's deck, even if he had a sore backside.

Five minutes later Paolo reported to him on the quarterdeck. He could still not stand upright but his eyes were sparkling. 'Mr Aitken's compliments, sir, and everything is ready at the top of the cliff.'

'It took you long enough to get down to tell me,' Ramage said gruffly, recalling Gianna's injunction that he was 'not to spoil the boy'.

'I know, sir,' Paolo said apologetically, 'but the rope made my hands rather sore.'

'Show me,' Ramage said, and the boy held his hands out, palms uppermost. They were raw. 'Yes, they are a little chafed: ask Mr Bowen to put some ointment on them.'

'He's going to, sir, but I wanted to report to you first.'

Ramage nodded gravely, feeling proud of the boy and noticing the approval of Southwick, who was standing nearby. 'Now, has Mr Aitken found a clear way to parbuckle the guns up the last section of the top of the Rock?'

'Yes, sir, it's steep but we've cleared away the small rocks, and there's a flat area at the top for the guns. We've cleared that, too. Mr Aitken says it is a perfect site for the battery. It could take ten guns, sir!'

'Very well, now run along and get those hands dressed.'

The jackstay was sagging badly, and hoisting the gun might increase the sag so much that the gun would swing in too close to the cliff for safety. Ramage had anticipated that this would happen, and the time had now come to tighten the cable.

He turned to Southwick, who was obviously still absorbed with the details of Orsini's report. 'The stun'sail booms are ready?'

'Aye, aye, sir, and I've doubled up on the topping lifts and guys, as you suggested.'

'Very well, let's start heaving in the jackstay.'

Southwick called for men as the two of them walked to the capstan. The cable forming the jackstay came down from the clifftop and led through a block shackled to the deck on the larboard side. From there it was led to the mainmast and made fast, but it could be tightened by clapping a purchase on it and leading the fall to the capstan, making it fast to the mast again when it was tight enough.

It took ten minutes to prepare everything and as soon as Southwick passed the order the fiddler began a tune and the men heaved at the capstan bars. Slowly the sagging jackstay tautened, the men slowing down with the effort as the strain came on the anchor cables.

Ramage walked to the bulwark and watched the cliff face, which was gradually getting nearer. Foot by foot the jackstay pulled the Juno bodily towards the cliff as it tautened until the outboard end of the stun'sail boom of the mainmast was almost touching the rock. He looked upwards at the jackstay soaring aloft in a gentle curve, with the gun tackle sagging beneath it. He pictured the jackstay with the weight of the gun running up it, suspended from the voyol block. That weight would pull the Juno a little closer to the cliff. Just enough to bring the booms against the Rock,

‘’Vast heaving,' he called, 'and pall the capstan. Mr Lacey, secure to the mast now. Mr Southwick, let's have the voyol block clapped on to the jackstay and secure the slings of the gun!'

He was hard put to keep the excitement out of his voice and Southwick was bustling around the decks like a jovial innkeeper seating his guests. Three men dragged the heavy voyol block and hung it on the jackstay. More men pulled across the single block of the tackle as others gathered beside its carriage, black, ominous and looking strangely naked.

Quickly the slings and the tackle were secured to the voyol block and the Master looked questioningly at Ramage as the fall of the tackle was led round the capstan again, ready for hoisting.

'Take up the strain with the tackle, Mr Southwick - and get those steadying lines led forward and aft outside the rigging.'

With lines secured to the gun, one leading right aft and the other forward, Ramage hoped to prevent the gun from swinging wildly as it was hoisted up, but the immediate task was to get the gun on the first few feet of its journey without smashing the bulwark or catching in the rigging.

With a sweeping gesture of his arm the Master started the men tramping round, pressing on the capstan bars. The strain came on the fall of the tackle, travelling all the way up the cliff and back to the Juno. The slings tautened and jerked once or twice, the voyol block settling on the jackstay as the gun, weighing nearly a ton, started on the first few inches of its five-hundred-foot journey to the top.

The gun lifted and seemed reluctant to come clear of the deck. Then it was as high as the bulwark and still rising as the capstan hauled at the fall of the tackle. Ramage saw that the great weight was making the jackstay sag, but not enough to be a disadvantage: if anything the voyol block would sit better.

The gun was ten feet high now, hanging horizontally and seemingly crawling up the jackstay like some strange animal. Ramage saw that the men at the capstan would have to be slowed down: they were full of enthusiasm now, but did not realize they would be hauling for another three or four hours, possibly five or six. Although there were enough men on board to make up three capstan parties, they would have to be changed every half hour or perhaps even sooner, because of the heat.

It took half an hour to get the gun up to the height of the maintruck, but that was because there had been difficulty in handling the steadying lines. The sag of the jackstay was just right at the moment, but Ramage still feared it might prove too much once the gun neared the cliff top. They could heave the jackstay tighter but it would be dangerous work belaying the tackle with the weight of the gun on it so they could use the capstan for the job.

Now was the time to decide if there was going to be too much sag: it would be better to lower the gun to the deck again, take up more on the jackstay, and start hoisting all over again. If he waited until the gun was almost at the top and found the jackstay sag too much he would lose ten hours, instead of two now.

He had just decided to risk it and carry on hoisting when Southwick came up, beaming delightedly. It was an expression that Ramage could never quite place: it would look well on an innkeeper hearing that a royal duke was about to arrive with his suite; it would be appropriate for a parson who had just learned that his church had been left a large endowment by a rich dowager. It would also suit a poacher returning home with three brace of pheasant in his bag.

‘I never thought it would work, sir, and I don't mind admitting it,' he said, after making sure he could not be overheard. 'We'll swing in a bit as the gun gets higher, but those booms will hold us off. It's hard work for the men, but they're cheerful enough.'

'I'll take the sentry off the water butt soon,' Ramage said. 'The men can drink as much as they want.'

'Aye, they're sweating like bulls, but hauling with a will. Seems they already have a name for the new battery.' When Ramage raised his eyebrows Southwick waved his hand across the ship. 'The Juno battery, sir; they're hoping you'll think of the name yourself.'

'I seem to be rather slow in naming things,' Ramage grinned. ‘I told you how they caught me unawares with the Marchesa battery!'

Southwick nodded, and then said seriously: ‘I’ve been thinking over that business about taking possession of an island, sir, and apart from "by right of discovery" I can't remember hearing of a procedure. There must have been some ceremony when we captured Martinique, for instance, though that was with a fleet and an army. Pity we ever gave it back again,' he added crossly. 'Just look at the trouble it causes us. All those politicians ever think of is getting a cheer in Parliament. Never consider the lives these damned spice islands cost to capture in the first place, let alone the men killed in recapturing them ...'

The gun was slowly moving upwards, still hanging horizontally in the slings, and the men at the capstan had settled into a steady rhythm. Lacey was watching, changing them occasionally. One man was sent below to the Surgeon, his face white, and obviously a victim of heat stroke.

The Créole was coming into sight again and a quick look through the telescope showed that she was not flying any signals. 'Just the time for the French to round Point des Salines,' Southwick said with an irritating cheerfulness.

Ramage, who had been thinking of that for the past few hours, glowered at him. 'That reminds me, I don't see any axes ready in case we have to cut something adrift in a hurry . . .'

'No, sir,' Southwick said hurriedly, 'I'll see to it at once.'

It took four and a half hours for the gun to reach the top of the cliff and, lying on his back, Ramage watched with his telescope. Aitken and his men had hooked tackles into the slings, taking the weight of the gun and holding it at the top of the cliff ready to start parbuckling it the rest of the way to the top.

Now he could see that the voyol block and the gun tackle were swinging clear. There should be no difficulty in getting the gun tackle block down again this time: there was the weight of the voyol block, and the rope of the tackle was well stretched. Indeed, as the men in the Juno eased away on the fall so it came down, Ramage stood up to see Southwick supervising men securing slings under the carriage.

With two hours to sunset there was time to get the carriage up since it weighed only three hundredweight, but that would mean Aitken and his men finding their way down again in the darkness.

He called to Lacey and told him to get the cooper to find the largest tub on board. ‘I want to fill it with bedding and provisions and send it up with the carriage. Mr Aitken and his men can spend the night up there. They'll prefer that to climbing down tonight and up again tomorrow.'

Noticing Lacey's hesitation Ramage looked questioningly. 'I'm sorry, sir,' the young lieutenant said, 'I was hoping I'd be able to go up tomorrow.'

Ramage tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Your turn will come. Now you know how to rig a jackstay, your job for tomorrow will be rigging one from near the Marchesa battery to the ledge half-way up the Rock and mounting a gun there. I propose landing you and twenty men at the battery with cable, tackles, a 12-pounder and carriage, and I'd like to hear you fire a round by sunset.'

'Thank you sir!' Lacey exclaimed with an enthusiasm that startled Ramage, and hurried off to find the cooper. Ramage shrugged his shoulders and began pacing the quarterdeck. He was lucky to have lieutenants who, after watching today's performance, were almost pathetically grateful to be allowed to rig a jackstay on land, without any help from a capstan.

Ramage went below and scribbled a note to Aitken to be sent up in the tub. He told the First Lieutenant that the carriage and tub were being sent up now so that if there was bad weather tomorrow and the Juno had to cast off the jackstay, Aitken would have a complete gun aloft. If there was time before darkness, he added, the tub would be sent up again with powder, shot and the rest of the gear. He paused a moment, wondering whether to add a line of congratulation, but decided against it: he preferred thanking a man to his face.

By nightfall the carriage was on top of the cliff and the tub had made a second trip up the jackstay with the powder, shot, rammer, sponge, handspikes, three spars to make sheers, and a cask of water. It came down again with a pencilled report from Aitken written on the back of Ramage's letter. The news it contained was good. The 12-pounder had been parbuckled to the peak and the carriage hauled to the top while the tub was coming up for the second time. At the time of writing the sheers were being rigged and the gun would be hoisted up on to its carriage and ready to open fire by dawn.

Ramage had folded the note, put it in his pocket and forgotten about it by the time he went down to bed. He had taken the first watch and then handed over to Southwick. He slept soundly, even though he knew that there were only half a dozen seamen and the officer of the deck on watch. In an emergency the rest of the men would come swarming up in a matter of moments. In any case he had given permission for them to sleep on deck if they wished, to take advantage of the cool night breeze, so some would probably be there already. Everyone was exhausted and he wanted all of them to get as much rest as possible, so they would be ready to hoist the second gun and its carriage next day. He also wanted to send the tub up as many times as he could, carrying extra powder, shot, provisions and water. He shuddered at the thought of the alternative, men climbing up what must be sheer rock in places, hoisting sacks and casks . . .

He was just climbing up the companionway at dawn the next morning when there was a heavy boom above and a moment later Southwick was bellowing for the men to go to quarters. Then Ramage remembered the pencilled note from Aitken in his pocket: the First Lieutenant had kept his word. 'Belay all that!' he called to the Master, 'that was Aitken firing the first round from the Juno battery!'

'I've just realized that,' the Master said ruefully, pointing to smoke drifting away from the clifftop. 'He might have warned us!'

'He did,' Ramage said, 'he wrote me a note but I forgot to pass the word.'

'Well, sir, we're ready to start hoisting the next gun,' Southwick said stiffly, 'and the purser is attending to the provisions to go up in the tub. A month for fourteen men, you said, sir.’

'Yes, but we'll make it three months if we have the time: it's the quickest way of getting it all on shore. I want to let go of the jackstay and get clear of here by nightfall. If we can get three months' supplies by then, so much the better. Warn the purser, so he can get them on deck ready. Lacey can go on shore now to start on the other battery.'