by Dudley Pope
Southwick finally caught the despair in his captain's voice and as he walked to the door to talk to the sentry said over his shoulder: 'Don't you worry, sir. There's nothing to worry about.'
When the master came back, having ordered hot soup, he found Ramage propped up on his right elbow, a wild look in his eye, his hair matted and filled with dust. 'The Earl of Dodsworth,' he muttered, 'something happened to her!'
Southwick looked puzzled. 'She's all right, sir. The hostages were a bit startled, I expect, but that's all.'
'And the rest of the hostages?'
'They're quite safe, sir. There's nothing to worry about. Once you've a pint of hot soup inside you, I'll tell you all I know. And Bowen will be here in a few minutes for a chat about that leg of yours.'
Leg, for God's sake. An arm and a leg. Anything, it seemed, to prevent him getting over to the Earl of Dodsworth. Not that he had any excuse to go over, he told himself. She would have seen the attack and whatever happened next. At the moment she probably knew more than he did.
The sentry's hail told him that Bowen was coming, and even by the dim light of the lantern Ramage could see that the surgeon was exhausted.
'What happened?' Ramage asked. 'Southwick won't tell me a damn thing. Why did we have so many casualties? We oughtn't to have lost a man. Was it because I was knocked out? Did -'
He was running the words together, almost as though he was drunk, and Bowen knelt beside the cot and without answering motioned to Southwick to bring the lantern. Then he pushed up one of Ramage's eyelids, inspected the eyeball for a few moments and then felt the pulse in his right wrist.
'How do you feel, sir?'
Ramage seemed to stir himself at the question. 'I'm all right. The arm is better but why is my right leg so stiff? It doesn't hurt much but I can't use it!'
'Don't try to for a few days: it's bandaged up. I don't think you've broken a bone, but several muscles were wrenched and there's considerable swelling.'
'But what happened?' Ramage, his voice getting stronger, had clearly recovered enough to become angry. Recovered enough, Bowen guessed, to try to scramble out of his cot - and probably fall over as it swung slightly. The cot, being a rectangular box slung low in what was little more than a large hammock, was easily capsized by someone trying to get out to one side without distributing his weight evenly.
A knock on the door and Silkin's voice heralded the arrival of the soup, which Ramage drank from a large mug with ill grace as Southwick supported him. He swallowed it all, refused more, and said to Bowen: 'Well, now tell me.'
'Southwick will tell you the earlier part in a moment. I am treating twenty-three men, apart from yourself, for various kinds of wounds, from widespread contusions to broken limbs. Jackson was hit across the head but should be fully recovered in the next twenty-four hours. Two men are dead - the men at the wheel. An enormous splinter seems to have spun across the deck and cut them down.'
'None of the twenty-three are in any danger, then?'
'No, sir: I've got them all cleaned up and bandaged, and where necessary, splints have been applied.'
'What happened to Southwick and Orsini, then?'
Bowen gestured towards the master, and Southwick said: 'Well, sir, you probably want to hear the whole story. I can tell you most of it; it's just the last part that someone like Stafford will have to tell.
'You remember we were just crossing the Lynx's stern for the third time? I'd said the gunners wanted us to pass farther off, to give them more time to see the target. Then we started firing that third broadside. The first six guns had just fired after I'd said something about "Now round we go again!" and that the grapeshot didn't seem to be doing more harm than a woodpecker -'
'Yes, yes, go on!'Ramage said impatiently.
'Well, that's very nearly the end of the story. There was an enormous flash and bang, and there was just a big ball of smoke where the Lynx had been. What was left of her - lengths of planking, chunks of masts and yards, even bits of bodies - were hurled for hundreds of yards. Scores of big pieces of timber hit us, sir, some coming in almost horizontally like roundshot, some falling on us a few moments later like sleet. But the force of the explosion, sir! It blew me and Orsini off the quarterdeck clear over the bulwarks into the sea. A dozen others were blown over from the maindeck, and we were all swimming round in circles while the Calypso sailed on with no one in command and no one at the wheel.'
It was too much to comprehend, Ramage decided, listening to this story lying in his cot and watching Southwick's suntanned face in the light of a guttering lantern ... 'Well, then what happened?'
'Stafford can best tell you about the ship, because he led a group of men and hove her to. Those of us in the water swam round in the wreckage wondering what would happen next, then we saw the ship heaving-to and suddenly we were being hauled into the two survey boats, which you remember we saw getting away from the beach. As soon as we were all on board they rowed like madmen towards the Calypso, and I saw then that Mr Martin had reached the ship from the Earl of Dodsworth and I guessed he was staying hove-to until our two boats reached him. Mr Aitken was rowing over from the Friesland. I'd guessed Mr Wagstaffe was out of action. To be honest, sir, I thought he'd been killed, along with you: I couldn't see how anyone could live through that explosion unless he was lucky enough to be blown clear over the side.'
'What did happen to Wagstaffe?'
Bowen coughed and took over the story. 'He knows nothing more than you and Jackson about the explosion, sir. You were all knocked out together. But (and this I saw as I ran up on deck; because the action was over, it was easier to start treating men there than carry them below) Stafford was getting some men together. They were stunned from the explosion but very quickly he had them backing the foretopsail.
'Just about that time someone saw a dozen or so men swimming in our wake and reported to me, but there was nothing we could do for the time being - I didn't know how badly hurt were the men lying round on deck. Two dozen looks like four dozen, with all that mess. Oh, then there was the fire, sir, which -'
'Fire!' Ramage exclaimed, lifting himself on his right arm. 'Fire on board this ship?'
'It was soon put out, sir, so rest easy while I tell you about it. Some of the burning debris from the Lynx landed on our sails. The maincourse took fire, but it was furled so some men soon beat out the flames. Fires broke out on the maindeck but all the men knew what to do; every cartridge was tossed over the side, all the larboard broadside was fired off because the guns were loaded, and the deckwash pumps and buckets soon had everything under control without getting up the fire engine.'
'Under control? What else burned?'
'Well, sir, some riggings, gratings, one side of the quarterdeck ladder - that sort of thing. It wasn't a conflagration, so the men could leave it while they did more urgent things. Heave-to the ship, tend to the wounded, look for you, that sort of thing. They were getting worried about you: there was only Jackson, knocked out, and two dead men by the binnacle (which was not even scratched). Then they found you still in your chair - which was just matchwood - lying under the muzzle of the aftermost gun on the larboard side. Apparently your leg was jammed in the wreck of the chair and it was only the back and one leg of the chair that stopped you from falling out through the gunport.'
'So you and Stafford took control?'
'Not me, sir, because I was busy with the wounded. Stafford was splendid. Then the moment the ship was hove-to, Martin and then Mr Aitken managed to get on board - they had been trying to intercept us, but until we hove-to, we were making five or six knots. Anyway, they came on board and Mr Aitken at once took complete command.
'He sent off Martin with the soundings and survey boats to collect the privateersmen prisoners in the five ships - I gather Martin made the prisoners row, threatening to shoot the first man that flagged.'
'So Aitken is in command? Where are we?'
'Mr Aitken is in command, yes sir, and making a good job of it. We are
back where we slipped our anchor - Mr Aitken picked up the dan buoy under sail.'
Southwick grunted his approval. 'Made a very good job of it. I thought he'd have used the boats - we have five towing astern by now - but he got the cable on board and sailed the ship up on it while the men heaved in the slack. Couldn't have done it better myself.'
Ramage eased back into the cot again and stared up at the deckhead, the beams appearing to move when the lantern, which Southwick had returned to its hook, swung slightly as the ship gently pitched.
'The Lynx,' he said. 'Did you find any survivors?'
'We sent a boat to look,' Southwick said. 'They found no complete bodies. The water is so clear they rowed around looking for a long time. They could see some of the privateers' guns lying on the bottom a hundred yards apart. We were lucky some of them didn't land on us.'
'I think those privateersmen were lucky,' Ramage said, although he was talking to himself. 'We'd have taken them to England, where they'd have all been hanged. They might have escaped with jail if they hadn't used the passengers as hostages. Tomás and Hart were quite prepared to murder them.'
Southwick reminded Ramage of the privateersmen being held on board as prisoners.
'I'd forgotten those. They probably stand less chance in court than the others actually in the Lynx, because if Tomás or Hart had actually given the word, they would have been the murderers. What happened to Renwick, by the way?'
Bowen shook his head. 'I'm sorry, sir, I forgot to mention him. He's all right now, but he was knocked out by one of the Lynx's half beams; it flew on board, hit the mainmast and then fell on him. He's a trifle sensitive about it, sir; reckons it's an undignified way for a Marine officer to be put out of action!'
'Undignified! His captain nearly went over the side in an armchair!' Ramage burst out laughing at the thought of it, but a moment later was gasping with pain as the spasms of laughter wrenched at his arm and leg.
Once he had his breath back again, he said: 'Well, I suppose that's it. You've no other surprises for me, I presume.'
The two men looked at each other, and seemed reluctant to speak.
'What's the matter?' Ramage was alarmed. Was it about Paolo? He suddenly remembered Southwick had only mentioned him swimming.
'Well, nothing the matter, sir,' Southwick said. 'It's just rather irregular, and I don't know how to tell you.'
Ramage grinned. 'Oh, come on, let's get this report over with!'
'It's not a report exactly, sir. Aitken discussed it all with Bowen and I, and as I knew more about it than the others, I took the responsibility. Well, that's to say I - er, I agreed that -'
'Southwick!' Ramage snapped. 'You sound as though you plan to jilt a blushing maiden.'
'Ah, yes, sir: you remember that lady in the Earl of Dodsworth who cleaned up the wound on your arm?'
Ramage nodded warily. He had asked Southwick earlier if everyone in the East Indiaman was safe and had been assured they were. Now here was Southwick backing and filling, and Bowen looking damned uncomfortable.
'Well, sir, she and her mother have been waiting to see you since soon after we anchored.'
'Waiting? What, you mean you signalled the Earl of Dodsworth when I'd recovered enough to receive visitors?'
'No, sir,' Bowen said firmly. 'They insisted that one of the East Indiaman's boats be lowered, collected every scrap of clean cotton and linen in the ship, and had themselves rowed over to help tend our wounded.
'They spent several hours helping me clean up and bandage the men, then took over the galley and made them soup. They - well, the daughter, because the mother was busy with Wagstaffe - helped me sort out your leg and splint it, sir, and did your arm again. They wore themselves out.'
'Have they gone back to the Earl of Dodsworth now?'
'Not exactly, sir, because they know they'll be able to help me again when it comes to changing dressings and checking that each man is comfortable.'
'Where are they, then?'
'We made up a bed for the mother on your settee, sir, and the lady's resting in the armchair. They're both waiting in your day cabin. Can I show them in now, sir?'
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Walking his own quarterdeck using a cane had its funny side, at least as far as Sarah was concerned. The click of the ferrule on the planking, she said, sounded like a wooden-legged, black-eye-patched pirate captain walking up and down, a parrot on his shoulder, and shouting foul oaths because no ship came over the horizon to provide him with a victim.
It was two weeks since the Lynx had blown up and the bay looked strangely empty. Strangely because he had first seen it with the privateer and her five prizes anchored there. As soon as all the ships' companies were freed from their prison camp (with the privateersmen prisoners on board the Calypso, closely guarded by Renwick's Marines), there had been a round of official calls on Ramage, by then transferred to his settee each day.
The first visitor (apart from Sarah and her mother) had been the captain of the Earl of Dodsworth. As befitted the captain of a John Company ship, he came in considerable state, but he was a pleasant and plump man, pink-faced and perspiring under a wig that did its best to hide his complete baldness. He made no secret that, during the long days as a prisoner, he never expected to see his ship again. The arrival of the Calypso, he said, had not given them any hope because the pirate guards - he resolutely refused to refer to them as privateersmen and was, of course, perfectly correct - had warned them that all the passengers, still held in the ships, and everyone in the prison camp, would be killed if any rescue was attempted.
On a later visit to the frigate, the Earl of Dodsworth's captain, John Hungerford, also made no secret of the fact that after the rescue, and with the Lynx destroyed by the Calypso, thepassengers had met in the saloon and then called him to hear what they had been discussing: they did not want to sail on to England alone.
He had explained to them that there was now a treaty of peace signed with Bonaparte, but they had pointed out that the Lynx had been a British ship, and two of her victims had been French. What they were afraid of, he said, was yet another Lynx like the one that had recently hove in sight.
Ramage was not sure whether Hungerford was being tactful or he had not expected the Calypso to catch the Lynx's sister ship, but it was unlikely that their Lordships at the Admiralty would view the episode with much favour.
Dusk was warning of night when the second privateer came into the bay. Aitken had realized immediately who she was. The Calypso had slipped her anchor and sailed at once in chase, the men loading and running out the guns by the time the frigate passed the headland, but the privateer, making the best use of her fore and aft rig to work up to windward to round the eastern side of the island, then turned northeast, sailing into the darker half of the horizon. By the time the Calypso had settled down to chase it was completely dark, and dawn brought an empty horizon, except for the grey smudge of Trinidade in the distance.
Ramage, still confined to his cot by the leg wound, had been puzzled by one thing: where were the second ship's prizes? Tomás and Hart had hinted that their fellow privateer was due with more victims, so had she failed to find any? Bad weather in the English Channel could delay sailings for a month, and that could be enough to account for a lack of outward-bound ships. Or she could have her victims anchored somewhere else. If so, where?
For once he was not bedevilled with choices: looking for prizes was ruled out by the fact that there were no known islands that the privateer could be using: Ascension, Fernando de Noronha, St Paul Rocks - all were too frequently visited. Finally he concluded that the privateer was simply intending to rejoin the Lynx and help take the prizes to wherever they were to be sold off. Indeed, she could have been away arranging the sale at some port on the South American coast.
Hungerford had brought many invitations for the Calypso's officers to visit the Earl of Dodsworth for dinner, but more thoughtful was the request that one of the Calypso's boats go alongside the East
Indiaman to collect some cases of spiced foods for the Calypso's men: things with sharp tastes that would tempt the men after weeks of salt tack.
The Amethyst's captain had been the next visitor, and he confirmed that the ship was indeed one of Mr Sidney Yorke's fleet, and Mr Yorke himself had told him about the voyage he had once made across the Atlantic with Mr Ramage and Mr Southwick, discovering how Post Office packets were being captured by the enemy.
The French captain of the Heliotrope and the Dutch master of theFriesland came together and, to begin with, were chilly and formal, protesting to Ramage that the Lynx had been British, and implying that Ramage must have known of and approved her activities even though a peace had been signed.
This had been such an outrageous suggestion that Ramage had immediately told Aitken, who had escorted them below, to see them to their boats. Taken aback by this treatment, both men had stood there grumbling in a truculent duet until Ramage, from his cot, had held up his hand for silence. Gesturing to the Dutch captain of the Friesland, who spoke good English, he had then pointed to Aitken.
'This officer swam alone in the night to board your ship secretly and warn your passengers and, when his men followed him, they captured the privateersmen and freed your passengers, eight of them. If I'd helped the Lynx people capture your ship, I'm damned if I see why I'd risk my own men freeing her.' He pointed at the Frenchman, 'I swam to your ship and my men followed. This -' he raised his bandaged arm '- is my souvenir of that. All your passengers were freed.
'A day after that my ship destroyed the privateers' vessel and you were all rescued from the comparative safety of the prison camp. So your passengers are safe, your ships undamaged, and now the pair of you have the gross impertinence to imply that I, or the Royal Navy, or my government, were in league with the Lynx.
'Pray tell me,' he said quietly, 'are you responsible for the French and Dutchmen we've found among the Lynx's guards? One of my officers has drawn up a rough muster list for the Lynx by questioning the survivors - the guards we captured - and it seems she had one hundred and ten men altogether. Nineteen of them were British, forty-one French and twenty-seven Dutch. The rest were Spanish or from various other countries. So I bid you good day, gentlemen.'
