by Dudley Pope
Every time he called on his memory, he saw only a blur. Yes, her voice came, and a few of her mannerisms: he could hear some of her little jokes and many of the whispered endearments. But her face, like an elusive word or name, refused to appear.
In her place he saw Alexis, and guiltily he dismissed her immediately, telling himself that as he had been talking to her only a few hours ago it was hardly surprising she came to mind so readily.
And here was the Queen: already her lookouts had hailed, already Jackson had shouted back the answer: "Calypso!", warning the flagship that the approaching boat carried the captain of the named ship, and ensuring that sideboys would be ready, holding out the sideropes.
Ramage grasped the canvas pouch which had been resting on.his lap. Rear-Admiral Tewtin would want to talk about the convoy: what route Ramage intended to take back to England (and the answer to that would be that it depended on wind direction), and no doubt a few ships would be mentioned as being of special concern - meaning the owners were friends of the admiral, or friends were shipping cargoes in those ships.
In fact. Ramage found the admiral in good humour. Or, to be more exact, once he found that Ramage accepted the valuations of the two frigates, he stayed in the good humour with which he had obviously greeted the dawn.
"You read the papers about the convoy?"
"Yes, sir, and the sailing date. No delays if ships haven't arrived?"
"Indeed not. The merchants throughout the islands have had the date for weeks. But can you be ready?"
"Yes, sir: we've started provisioning, and wooding and watering shouldn't take too long. But you didn't mention what other ships I'd have."
"Why, bless my soul!" Tewtin said, "the two prizes, of course!"
"But sir, they've neither ships' companies nor sufficient provisions. And L'Espoir is only armed en flûte."Ramage had a sudden picture of Tewtin expecting him to sail the ships to England with the original prize crews - two thirds of the Calypso's ship's company, in other words, leaving him with three virtually defenceless frigates to defend both themselves and the convoy.
Tewtin apparently correctly interpreted the reasons for the dismay showing on Ramage's face. "I'm making two of my lieutenants post, to command; two other promising young lieutenants will become first lieutenants, and four young lieutenants who should never have gone to sea will be getting their last chance ... All thanks to you bringing in a couple of prize frigates. Ramage. Now I've been frank with you. I've put in good captains and good first lieutenants ..."
"And the ship's company, sir? Aren't you short of seamen?"
The admiral looked slightly embarrassed. "Well, yes, I wish I could give you more men in both frigates, but you know how it is out here in the West Indies. I've lost a thousand men from yellow fever in the last year."
"So what's being done to make up the shortages in those two ships, sir?" Ramage asked, although, since he knew, the answer would be a formality.
"Take what you need from the best-manned ships in the convoy," Tewtin said nonchalantly. "Tell any masters who complain that the men will be more useful protecting the merchantmen by serving a gun in a frigate than cowering behind a few casks of molasses."
That was one thing about Tewtin, Ramage admitted: he did not beat about the bush. He had just found a way of sending the June convoy to England without having to use even one of his own frigates; he had been able to use two of the prizes to make post two of his favourite lieutenants and give two more of them hefty promotions (and at the same time get rid of some duds).
The hint that the Count of Rennes was a friend of the Prince of Wales and that it might be unwise to delay his return to England had made little impression: Tewtin might only be a rear-admiral but obviously he knew (or guessed) enough about Court life to know that Prinny's attention could be held at most for only a couple of minutes, unless the subject concerned women or the latest fashion in men's clothing.
"Lieutenant Newick has all your copies of the convoy instructions, one for each master, although God knows by now they should know them by heart. Secret signals - I haven't received the latest ones from the Admiralty (who nevertheless are trying to dissuade flag officers from issuing their own). So you'll have to draw up a set. Send them over here for copying - I know your clerk won't be able to make seventy-two copies in time."
Tewtin bellowed a hearty "Come in" when the sentry at the door announced a name, and Newick walked in, holding a bundle of papers and to be met by an angry Tewtin.
"Do you expect Mr Ramage to carry those convoy instructions round as though he's selling copies of the Morning Post? Have them sent down to his boat.
"When you reach flag rank, Ramage," he added, "if you haven't discovered it already, you'll find you're surrounded by dolts. And in my experience so far, the higher the rank the more dolts it attracts."
At that moment Ramage felt he could grow to like Tewtin, who said: "Hold the meeting of the convoy masters the day before they sail. Any earlier, they'll forget all your warnings. And it's just early enough in the hurricane season that all those scoundrels wanting to cadge sailcloth or a topsail yard or cordage can be told there's no time for any of that nonsense: hoist in boats and get the capstans and windlasses turning!"
Ramage sat at the far side of the room on a small dais - in fact a platform used by the auctioneer in Bridgetown when taking bids for whatever luxuries (like armchairs, crockery, cutlery and cloth) the latest convoy from England had brought in. The masters were coming in to Bridgetown's only large hall for the convoy conference, but Ramage knew from experience they were men who could only demonstrate their independence by being late. It was like the old and tedious story of a senior officer keeping you waiting fifteen minutes and unwittingly giving you a good insight into the uncertainty he felt about himself. A confident man had no need to play such silly games.
Southwick sat on his left and Aitken on his right, and in front of Ramage was a pile of twelve-page booklets, each measuring a dozen inches by eight. The title, in small type and neatly displayed between double rules, said: "SIGNALS and INSTRUCTIONS for SHIPS under CONVOY". In tiny type was the announcement: "Printed by W. Winchester and Son, Strand."
"Forty-three of the mules up to now," Southwick growled.
"Don't be impatient, you're going to have their company for weeks ..." Ramage chided as he turned over the first page of one of the booklets. The title was repeated, with the extra explanation: "INSTRUCTIONS explanatory of the SIGNALS".
As Ramage glanced down the seven numbered paragraphs on this first page he felt the all-too-familiar despair. Number III, for instance: "No signals are to be made by the ships under convoy besides those appointed by the Commander thereof." What would happen, in fact, was that proper signals made by the commander (himself) would be ignored and incomprehensible flag signals would be hoisted by mules. Days later it would transpire that the mules were using an old signal book from some past convoy.
The next instruction was almost a mockery: "The ships of the convoy out of their stations are to take advantage of all opportunities, by making sail, tacking, waring, &c to regain the same."
What forbearance (or plain stupidity) the Admiralty had shown in not making it a direct order that unless the weather made it necessary, the mules must not reef at night, or furl topsails, and drop so far astern that by dawn they would be specks on the horizon, just the trucks of their masts showing up in a powerful glass. Or, even worse, they would be below the horizon, and the whole convoy would have to heave-to until noon while they caught up. Well, Ramage thought grimly, if Yorke played his agreed role at this convoy conference, perhaps this time there would be less of all that nonsense.
The next instruction followed on logically: "In case of parting company (which the ships of the convoy are to avoid by all possible means) and being met with by an enemy, the Commanders of the ships are to destroy the rendezvous, these signals, and all other papers whatsoever concerning the destination of the fleet, SEE PAGE 13."
Idly Ramage turned to page 13, although he knew what it said. It began by quoting the Act of Parliament under which it was enacted that "if the Captain of any merchant ship, under convoy, shall wilfully disobey signals or instructions, or any other lawful commands of the Commander of the convoy, without notice given, and leave obtained for that purpose", he was liable to be hauled into the High Court "at the suit of the Crown", and fined up to £500 or jailed for up to a year.
The next section warned a master that he could be fined £1,000 for sailing alone from a port where a convoy was being arranged, and more important, Ramage reckoned, he could be fined £1,000 if he should "afterwards desert or wilfully separate or depart from such convoy without leave obtained from the Captain or other Officer in His Majesty's Navy entrusted with the charge of such convoy . . ."
Ramage noted that the cheapest infringement for a master seeking a bargain was, ironically, for one of the most important tasks falling to a master in time of attack - he would have to pay up to £100 if, "being in danger of being boarded or taken possession of by the enemy", he "shall not make signals by firing guns, or otherwise convey information of his danger to the rest of the convoy, as well as to the ships of war under the protection of which he is sailing; and, in case of being boarded or taken possession of, shall not destroy all instructions confided to him relating to the convoy".
On the final page, a paragraph set by itself in solitary splendour and headed MEMORANDUM said:
All Masters of Merchant Vessels to supply themselves with a quantity of False Fires, to give the Alarm on the approach of an Enemy's Cruizer in the Night; or in the Day to make the usual Signal for an Enemy. On being chased or discovering a suspicious Vessel, and in the event of their Capture being inevitable, either by Night or Day, the Master to cause the Jeers, Ties, and Haul Yards to be cut and unrove, and their Vessels to be otherwise so disabled as to prevent their being immediately capable of making Sail.
Aitken muttered: "I think they're all here now, sir."
Ramage looked up to find the hall now almost full, and if a complete stranger looked at all the masters and tried to guess who they were, the chances are he would choose farmers attending an auction to bid for some well-favoured grazing land.
"Very well, Aitken: bring 'em to the starting post!"
Aitken rapped on the table. "Gentlemen, your attention please, and I introduce the commander of your escort, Captain Ramage."
There was an immediate buzz of conversation, and from what Ramage could hear of the masters in the front row, they were commenting on the name. One of them waved an arm like a schoolboy with a question.
"Is that the Captain Ramage we've read about in the Gazettes!"
"Aye, the very same one," Aitken answered, his Scots accent very pronounced.
At that moment Yorke's voice shouted from the back: "Captain Ramage, eh? Last time I saw you, you were firing across the bow of one of the convoy and then towing a slow ship - nearly towed her under, I recall, with the master crying for mercy from the fo'c'sle."
Ramage stood up and slowly looked round the room. Nearly eighty pairs of eyes were focused on him; their owners were looking at him with interest and, he thought, in some of them there was fear.
"Good morning. Gentlemen. As Lieutenant Aitken has just told you, I shall be commander of this convoy." He tapped the pile of SIGNALS and INSTRUCTIONS in front of him and waved towards Jackson and Stafford, who were standing behind the table. "Each of you will now be given a copy, which you've read as many times as you've sailed in convoy - I hope you have, anyway, because there are some interesting points in it.
"Now, to answer the question put by that gentleman at the back, who must have been in that particular convoy. He forgot to mention that the convoy reached England without loss, although we were attacked four times. Still, I should be misleading you if I did not warn you that anyone dropping astern at night because of unnecessarily reefing and furling, will get towed back into position by one of my frigates. That reef-and-furl nonsense can delay the convoy for half a day while you catch up at your leisure ..."
"But that's outrageous!" bellowed one of the masters, a man whose complexion revealed his tippling. "I shall resist! To the utmost!"
"That is your privilege," Ramage said dryly. "Just remember that my orders are to get this convoy to England safely and your anticipated tardiness could endanger every other ship in the convoy. Look around you, sir: your desire for quiet nights in bed under reduced canvas will put every one of these other gentlemen and their ships at risk. The French are at sea, you know."
Ramage could hear the muttering now, like waves on a distant beach, and it seemed to be directed against the truculent master, who had to try to save face. "Well, if your fellows try to board me, they'll get a hot reception."
"I'll tell them," Ramage said coldly. "Less than a month ago the men in my frigate - 'my fellows' - captured two frigates from the French and you saw them being brought in as prizes. Those two frigates will be part of your escort. Your threat will no doubt fill 'my fellows' with alarm . . ."
Many of the masters began laughing and the original man contented himself with a gruff: "I know my rights."
"Yes," Ramage said pleasantly, "and you should know your obligations - they are set out in the booklets now being issued to you."
And now, he thought, thanks to Yorke's well-timed remark, none of these mules are under any illusions about what will happen if they delay. Perhaps one or two will go over to the Queen and complain to Admiral Tewtin, but Tewtin was so delighted with the idea of getting rid of the convoy without losing one of his own frigates that he would send the grumblers packing - probably adding his own threats as well.
"Well, gentlemen," Ramage continued, "let us get on with the serious business of the convoy. You will find tucked into the SIGNALS and INSTRUCTIONS a plan showing the position of every ship in the convoy. You'll see that the ships are spaced two cables apart. I want to warn you that I have chosen two cables, four hundred yards, not because it is my favourite number but because, first, that is a reasonable separation to avoid collisions and, secondly, it is a practical distance that gives the frigates room to manoeuvre among you should there be an attack by French privateers - or the French fleet."
"Is there any intelligence that the French fleet is at sea?" one of the masters asked nervously.
"No - but there's always a chance."
"Aren't we blockading Brest?"
"Yes, but French ships of war can sail from Toulon, Marseilles and a dozen other ports; they can also arrive from the East Indies, from Martinique . . ." Having got the idea across to the masters Ramage was reluctant to let it go, but for the moment he could not think of any other French ports. But the main threat was not from French ships of war.
"Gentlemen, we must all be on our guard against the main enemy - privateers. You've sailed in convoys before, most of you many times, but I must emphasize this. There's not much chance of a privateer being able to capture one of you if you stay in position in the convoy: your positions and the shape of the convoy have been selected to give the frigates in the escort the best opportunity of defending you.
"But if one of you straggles, drops astern during the night so that at dawn we just see your topmasts on the horizon, you are inviting a French privateer to snap you up.
"Any privateer with experience knows there's always a straggler - your reputation, gentlemen, is well known - so the privateer gets astern of the convoy during the night and chooses his straggler. Just before dawn he is ready, and then he swoops. In ten minutes you are his prize - and no doubt you will complain the escort is not doing its job. You'll forget you straggled five or six miles astern. I put it to you: why should each of the other seventy-one ships in the convoy be put at risk so that a frigate can stay with the straggler, who is only trying to save pennies on canvas, or make sure he has a quiet night without a squall making him furl or reef?
"Gentlemen," Ramage said bluntly, "if you don't want to be roused out at n
ight to furl or reef, or tack or wear, then you should not have come to sea: you should have opened a grocer's shop, or set up as a farrier or, if you feel bloodthirsty, set up a knacker's yard."
The choices set most of the masters laughing: in fact. Ramage decided, that sorted them out: the men laughing were those who did not straggle; those with long faces, like mourners attending a debtor's funeral, were the stragglers . . .
He then ran through the SIGNALS and INSTRUCTIONS, emphasizing the seven instructions, going through the signals from the commander of the convoy which would be made without flags, and then the signals which would be made with one flag or with a pendant under a flag. Then very carefully he covered the signals to be made from ships in the convoy to the commander of the escort - they ranged from "An enemy is in sight" and "Being in distress and wanting immediate assistance" to "Sticking on a shoal" and that the commander's signal was not understood (a favourite way of being stubborn). Fog signals and the various combinations of lights used at night rounded off the working part; then Ramage emphasized the penalties printed on page thirteen.
"I want you to note, gentlemen, that at the bottom left-hand side of the page is written your name and that of your ship. To the right, where it says 'Given under my hand on board of . . .' you will see my signature.
"Those of you who know me - and I recognize some faces - also know that I am a man of my word. I promise you I shall try to get this convoy to England safely. But in turn I rely on each of you to play your part. We shall sail tomorrow morning, as soon after dawn as possible. So thanking you, I bid you all good-day."
"You got them," Southwick muttered. "There wasn't one ofthem, except Mr Yorke, who couldn't see the Calypso towing 'em under in a high wind and a rough sea!"
As the masters filed out of the hall, Ramage said: "I hope they could also imagine it happening in a light breeze, if necessary!"
CHAPTER FIVE
