by Dudley Pope
Jackson had brought up Ramage's two pistols, loaded and ready to fire - a task the American had set himself years ago. And Ramage was, at Silkin's insistence, wearing his Lloyd's Patriotic Fund sword. Ramage preferred a seaman's cutlass for fighting, but today (of all days) he could be sure the Calypso would not be doing any fighting . . .
The Victory had half a mile to go. And there! the French 74 ahead of the Santissima Trinidad fired a broadside, red winking eyes giving way to smoke which, because the wind was too light to disperse it quickly, filled the ship and blurred her outline as it streamed out of the gunports.
Ramage looked at the Victory with his glass. The enemy's broadside must have fallen short. And then the great Spanish three-decker seemed to shiver as the guns on all her decks fired. Smoke curled up, wrapping itself round her tumblehome like fog and reaching up to her sails, following their shape. Again Ramage could see no effect on the Victory or the Téméraire, which seemed to be trying to race the Victory.
The range was now so short that it could only be bad gunnery, and while Ramage speculated whether he would see spurts of water from shot falling short, the French flagship fired a broadside, but wherever her shot fell she might as well have been pelting the Victory with snowballs for all the effect they had. By now the three enemy ships were sailing along in a bank of swirling smoke because the wind was so light that ships and smoke went along together.
But the range was closing fast and he saw that the Victory was passing through the line close under the stern of the Bucentaure. It was going to be a bad place, because another French 74 was very close astern of the Bucentaure while a third (she had sagged off to leeward) was just beyond the gap, ready with a broadside.
Suddenly the three enemy ships were firing at the Victory and the Téméraire; a moment later - or so it seemed - the Victory had steered under the Bucentaure's stern and, from smoke wreathing up from her bow and the clouds of dust now drifting across the French flagship's stern, had raked her with the great 68-pounder carronade on the larboard side of her fo'c'sle. Ramage could imagine dozens of grapeshot sweeping along the length of the Bucentaure, cutting men down in swathes.
Within five minutes the whole section of the enemy line of battle was hidden in clouds of twisting and swirling smoke as the Leviathan and Neptune broke through. Well beyond, the leading ships of Admiral Collingwood's column - the Royal Sovereign, Belleisle, Mars and Tonnant - smashed their way through and, like those in Nelson's column, immediately turned to larboard, to steer parallel with the enemy ships.
"What a sight! What a sight!" Southwick kept muttering. "Oh, why couldn't I be the master of the Victory'"
"It's worked, sir!" Aitken exclaimed. "The wind held up for His Lordship!"
"It needs to hold on a bit longer to bring up the rest of the ships," Ramage said grimly, "Otherwise the odds against Lord Nelson and Admiral Collingwood will be five to one . . ."
"Seems strange to be out here while all the fighting is going on over there, sir," Aitken said. "By the way, did you see that French frigate to leeward of their line?"
"Yes," Ramage said. "She's a sister ship of the Calypso, unless I'm much mistaken."
"It's hard to make out her sheer with all these ships of the line in the way, but that's the impression I get."
"Oh, she is, sir!" Orsini exclaimed. "I saw her clearly through the gap between two ships!"
"You're not supposed to be listening," Aitken said sternly, and then demanded: "Are you absolutely sure?"
"Absolutely, sir," Orsini insisted. "The frigate to leeward of the Santissima Trinidad. She's just like us - except for our yellow strake, of course. The other four French frigates have flatter sheers, and the masts are differently spaced."
"Mr Aitken," Ramage said, his voice as casual as he could make it, "have grapnels rigged from the ends of the yards, and three or four ready here at deck level."
Southwick looked at him quizzically. "If you burn wet powder, you get plenty of smoke."
"Yes, I haven't forgotten." He turned and pointed to the tubs of water beside the aftermost carronades, round the edge of which slowmatch burned. "Have those tubs hauled over against the taffrail and send three seamen down to the magazine for cartridges."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"Orsini," Ramage said sternly, "you are far too busy to observe any signals. The Victory won't make any to us - she can't even see us with all the smoke - but the Euryalus can . . ."
"I understand, sir," Orsini said with a grin. "I'll give them a hand shifting those tubs."
"Stunsails, sir?" Aitken murmured questioningly.
Ramage looked aloft, where topmen were now busy at the ends of the yards, coils of rope over their shoulders, securing the grapnels. The stunsail booms would have to be run out and the stunsails themselves manhandled up from the sail room. He then looked across at the enemy's line of battle.
Ramage shook his head. "There's no time. We wouldn't have them drawing before we'd be cutting them away."
He looked across at Southwick. "I want all the leather buckets lined up along the taffrail, full of water. And give the deck an extra wetting."
He inspected the enemy line of battle. Even in the few minutes he had used giving orders, the situation had already changed: looking along the line from the van, the Neptune had broken through and rounded up almost alongside the Santissima Trinidad; the Conqueror, following her, had rounded up to leeward of the Bucentaure; the Leviathan, passing through the line, was about to run alongside the French 74 that had been well to leeward of the rest; the Victory was alongside the fourth French ship - he could just make out her name in the drifting smoke, the Redoutable, which was squeezed between her and the Téméraire.
There was not much space, but if one was fast enough ... if the wind held . . . "Something must be left to chance ..."
"Mr Aitken," he said, "as far as I can see the Britannia is going to pass through the line in the wake of the Leviathan. We'll pass through in the Britannia's wake."
"Aye, aye, sir," Aitken said, but added: "That means we shall pass the Victory fairly close on our starboard hand."
Ramage nodded. "I doubt if anyone will be looking out for us. Anyway, the smoke is so thick -" he gestured at the thick clouds now rolling like dirty fog along the line of ships, in places as high as their mastheads, "- we'd never be able to distinguish flag signals ..."
By now the heavy drum-roll of broadsides was echoing across the water like thunder from an approaching summer storm. Occasionally there was the thud of a single gun as some gunrier twitched his trigger line accidentally, but the broadsides were almost continuous.
"A point to starboard," Aitken told Jackson, who repeated the order to the four men at the wheel: four now not because there was any weight on the spokes with this light wind but because some of them might be cut down.
"Get Kenton, Hill and Martin up here," Ramage said. Lord Nelson's plan for breaking the line in two places, cutting off the van, seemed to have worked. Surprise: His Lordship had done the unexpected. Now Captain Ramage was going to try the same tactics. The scale would be vastly smaller but the principle was the same.
With the three lieutenants standing beside Aitken, all looking startled at having been suddenly called up to the quarterdeck from their division of guns, Ramage said: "There's hardly any time." Quickly he outlined his plan for the Calypso and then said: "So the three of you -" he indicated the junior lieutenants, "- will go back and assemble boarding parties.
"You, Kenton, will board and take the fo'c'sle. Cut all sheets and braces you can lay your axes to. Hill, you do the same amidships but you'll need to pick fifty men - you'll have all the French guns' crews to deal with. Take five extra men and give them axes: they must cut sheets and braces.
"Martin, you'll take fifty men and secure the quarterdeck. Detail five men to seize the wheel: make sure they have pistols and cutlasses. And don't forget, sheets and braces. Right, off you all go!"
As the three lieutenants hurried away both Aitke
n and Southwick said in unison: "What about me, sir?"
"You remain in command of the Calypso,"Ramage told Southwick, who groaned theatrically.
"Look here," Ramage said angrily, "I'm not having a debate about this every time we go into action. There'll be you and less than fifty men to beat off any attempt by the French to board us. Oh no, don't sneer at the idea. That's the best defence the French have, if they only realize it."
Aitken, watching the smoke rolling along the enemy line and keeping an eye on the Britannia, looked questioningly at Ramage. "You'll come with me," Ramage said. "The Frenchman's quarterdeck. Watch out for Martin's men and remember, we're interested in securing the wheel."
Ramage realized that Jackson was looking at him, pleadingly. "All right then, if you can get word to your relief, you can come with me!"
Jackson promptly shouted to a passing seaman, who then hurried down the quarterdeck ladder. Ramage turned to the Marine lieutenant. "Ah, Mr Rennick: a change in plans. There's a French frigate the other side of this smoke that interests us. You should put half your Marines under Sergeant Ferris and tell them to help secure the enemy's waist: Hill will be going across with fifty seamen, but most of the French guns' crews will be there. You take the other half yourself and make for the quarterdeck. You'll find Mr Aitken and myself strolling round somewhere up there, along with Martin and fifty seamen. Is all that clear?"
Rennick gave a wolfish grin and hitched round his sword. "Absolutely, sir: my men are getting bored just watching the battle."
Ramage thought of the boredom of twice daily parades when the Marines marched and countermarched, musket butts clattered amid showers of pipeclay and heels stamped. And they were bored watching the greatest sea battle - or rather the opening rounds of it. No, it wasn't possible. Then he realized that the men were bored not with the sight but the fact they could not join in: each of the Marines had the soul of a butcher imprisoned in a spectator . . .
At last he could look ahead again. Yes, the Calypso was tucked in nicely astern of the Britannia. The Santissima Trinidad had the Conqueror raking her stern and the little Africa raking her bow, while the Neptune was pouring in broadsides from to leeward. The Bucentaure was firing broadsides into the approaching Ajax but any moment the Britannia would start raking her from astern. To leeward of the Bucentaure the French Neptune, heading east at right-angles to the line of battle, was exchanging broadsides with the Leviathan while the Victory was the first ship in a row - she too was heading east, almost alongside the Redoutable, which in turn was alongside the Téméraire, which was pouring broadsides into the Fougueux . . .
But all that really mattered to the Calypso was that the gap between the Bucentaure and the Victory was wide, and the Leviathan was on the French Neptune's larboard side. The Calypso's sister ship was a mile away on the Leviathan's larboard bow.
The Calypso caught a sudden puff of wind that did not reach the Britannia and she surged up on the three-decker. Ramage thought for a moment of Rear-Admiral the Earl of Northesk wondering why the Calypso frigate was following so close in his wake, but the Scotsman would probably assume she was acting under orders from the commander-in-chief.
That, he realized, was the advantage of doing the unexpected: everyone assumed you must have orders . . . And if he timed it right he would be able to stay on the Britannia's larboard side as she passed the Victory to starboard so that no one would spot a little frigate apparently lost in the banks of smoke . . .
And there was so much smoke! He had expected the thundering roll of the broadsides but not all this smoke: there had not been nearly so much at the battle of Cape St Vincent (and thanks to the dilatory Earl St Vincent, or Sir John Jervis as he then was, not nearly so much action, either). But now he could understand Lord Nelson's foresight in ordering that all ships should fight under the white ensign (because the red or blue ensigns, hanging down in a light breeze, could be mistaken for a drooping Tricolour) and that another ship should paint her mastbands buff like the rest of the fleet - leaving them black (which was how the French and Spanish painted them) could lead to her being mistaken for the enemy when her hull and colours were obscured by smoke. Ramage realized that battles were won by this kind of foresight.
As the Calypso reached the line (now ragged, with many of the French and Spanish ships sagging or beaten to leeward by gunfire) it was as though the frigate was steering directly into a heavy thunderstorm: the thick banks of smoke hid the weak sun; the deep rumbling broadsides, like the growling of monsters, made even the calmest man feel uneasy.
Now the Britannia (notoriously a slow sailer) was on the Calypso's starboard bow, and beyond her was the group of ships with the Victory the nearest. All the ships had the red winking eyes of gunfire on one side or the other; all were shrouded with smoke, like monks with cowls.
"Hot work," Southwick commented, raising his voice above the rumbling of the guns. "The Victory's guns are firing as fast as they ever did at exercise against a watch!"
Ramage took his glass from his eye as Aitken stood in front of him. "I've just inspected the boarding parties, sir. Men are standing by at the grapnels. Will a dozen be enough aft?"
Ramage thought a moment and then nodded. "Southwick," he said, "you are in charge of the powder men. Use Rossi, Stafford and the Frenchmen. Make sure they know exactly what they have to do so that they don't blow us up. And," he added firmly, "make sure there's enough water . . ."
Then the bulk of the Britannia hid four ships that were alongside each other, guns blazing, masts and yards toppling, sails spotted with shot holes as though speckled with some vile mould: the Victory, Redoutable, Téméraire and Fougueux were locked together like wildcats fighting in a bag.
And then, with the rest of the enemy line and the British attackers over to larboard and the Calypso overtaking the Britannia, there were only two ships ahead - the Leviathan and French Neptune, with the frigate up to the north-east, well beyond the line. But the Leviathan was bracing up her yards: she was obviously going to leave the Neptune and join in the battle further towards the van . . . What would the Frenchmen in the Neptune do? She was well to leeward of the rest of the fleet: in fact she was so far to leeward she was almost among the frigates . . .
Anyway, the Leviathan had kept her out of the way for long enough: the Calypso had just to cross ahead of the Leviathan and then there would be a clear run.
"Two points to larboard," he told Aitken. "Give the Leviathan plenty of room. Then bear away."
They watched as the British ship came away from alongside the French Neptune, which still had her masts standing. Obviously Captain Henry Bayntun, who commanded the Leviathan, had his eye on the long row of enemy ships forming the van.
Boarders . . . Stafford and his shipmates handling the powder ... the Marines have their orders . . . men are ready with the grapnels to hook the two ships together . . .
Ramage tried to make sure he had not forgotten anything . . . his pistols, tucked into the band of his breeches, nudged against his ribs (he would still prefer a seaman's cutlass to the Lloyd's Patriotic Fund sword). They were passing well ahead of the Leviathan, which was hardening in sheets to steer northwards, along the enemy line.
Stafford, Rossi and the Frenchmen hurried up on to the quarterdeck carrying the heavy cast-iron braziers used in cold climates to dry out damp between decks after the planking had been well scrubbed or there had been a long period of wet weather.
They had taken several handsful of twigs from the cook's supply of kindling, used for the galley stove, along with sawn wood, and quickly set up the braziers, watched by a fussy Southwick. The master looked ahead at the French frigate, now fine on the starboard bow, and then questioningly at Ramage, who said: "Get the kindling started, and then wait. . ."
Stafford found some small twigs which still had dried leaves attached, made them into a little nest in one of the braziers, and then went over to one of the tubs and took a length of glowing slowmatch from its notch.
He came
back to the brazier, put the burning end of the slowmatch amid the leaves, and blew gently until first one and then two or three of the other leaves burst into flame. Soon, feeding the flames with larger twigs, he finally used sawn up pieces of wood that had obviously come from Chatham Dockyard.
"Pity it's not a cold day," Stafford commented.
"Be careful, Staff," Gilbert said, eyeing the flannel cartridge cases stacked up under the taffrail.
The Cockney, coughing from the woodsmoke, laughed. "Not used to the sight of flames, are you Gilbert? Don't be nervous - think what it must be like over there!" He gestured towards the flickering guns of the Santissima Trinidad and her attackers.
"She's not so near," Gilbert said, cautiously taking one of the burning pieces of wood and transferring it to another brazier and feeding it with wood. He was followed by Rossi and Auguste, and finally Louis lit the last of the braziers, until all five were flickering on the quarterdeck.
Southwick walked over to Ramage. "I was thinking, sir, if an unlucky roundshot knocks over those braziers ..."
"We shall probably blow up," Ramage said matter-of-factly. "It's a risk I decided to take. You have plenty of buckets of water and the tubs, and you'll keep the deck well sluiced down."
Southwick nodded. "Thought I'd better mention it, sir."
"Oh, indeed," Ramage said. "No point in remembering as the ship blows up. Don't forget to wet the powder ..."
Southwick laughed cheerfully. "You'll be the first to hear if I forget, sir," he said.
Jackson walked across the deck to join his shipmates. "Warm work," he commented.
"Yus," Stafford said, "but it'll soon be 'ot work! Is that the frigate we're after?" he gestured over the starboard bow.
The American nodded. "The one that looks like us. Like us without the yellow strake."
