by Dudley Pope
Which only emphasised that all too often luck was the most important factor in getting promotion: being around and under the admiral’s eye when a vacancy occurred.
Yet if he was fair he would have to admit that was how he got his start: he was at hand in the Mediterranean when Lord Nelson – then a less distinguished rear-admiral – was looking for a lieutenant to command the Kathleen cutter and attempt to carry out what he now realised were thought to be impossible orders, although at the time he had been so young and keen that nothing seemed impossible. Nor, in this case, were they.
As he examined the great kidney-shaped bay, memories came flooding back to Ramage. Nothing had changed at Fort Royal, up in the north-west corner. The cathedral stood in the centre of the town and Fort St Louis still sat four-square on the peninsula to the east. Further eastward the seventy-four was at anchor in the Baie du Carénage, with the frigate half a mile to seaward, swinging just clear of the big shoal in front of the fort.
‘That seventy-four seems snug enough,’ Southwick grunted, putting down his telescope. ‘Doesn’t look as if she goes to sea very often. They need boats to tow her into that berth: she could never sail in, not with the prevailing wind.’
‘She only needs to sail when a convoy is expected,’ Ramage reminded him. ‘The frigate probably does all the routine patrolling – she’s anchored well out.’
Even as he spoke, an idea was growing in Ramage’s mind. The frigate was anchored well clear – what was that channel called? Ah yes, the Passe du Carénage, and to the west of her was the Banc du Fort St Louis.
‘I wonder what they’re thinking over there,’ Aitken speculated. ‘They probably haven’t seen a British seventy-four off here for many months.’
‘Well, that frigate never sailed to chase off the Scourge, so I don’t expect they’ll get very excited about us,’ Ramage said.
‘A pity,’ Southwick commented. ‘I can’t see how we’ll ever lure her out.’
‘We might be able to catch her if she sails to escort a convoy,’ Ramage said.
Southwick gave one of his familiar sniffs, this time indicating doubt. ‘They probably only get a couple of convoys a year, maybe not even that many, so we might have a long wait.’
‘Better than blockading Brest in the winter,’ Aitken commented. ‘A gale once a week in the winter, with snow as well. Frozen ropes, clothes wet for weeks on end…no I’d rather blockade Fort Royal!’
Ramage, who knew he had not the patience to blockade anywhere for long, thought about his original idea. Already the thought of sailing up and down the coast, or waiting off Diamond Rock for the Scourge to make a signal that the French were sailing, was beginning to pall.
But for a day or two, he would let the French settle down again: the Scourge would continue her watch on Fort Royal while the Dido went back to waiting close to Diamond Rock.
He thought of the row of mountains lining the coast down as far as Diamond Rock. It was almost like coming home again, because he could remember the names of most of them. Once past Cap Salomon, there was Morne La Plaine with another one behind it whose name he had forgotten, then Morne Macabou, followed by Morne Jacqueline, jutting out to sea, and then the highest of them all, Morne Larcher, which formed Pointe du Diamant.
Splendid mountains, all of them, but cutting off the Trade winds as effectively as a door, unless for a change there was a bit of south in them. All of which meant that a ship had to keep five or six miles out to sea, unless the captain wanted to risk losing the wind and getting swept north by the north-going current.
But, as Aitken said, it was worse off Brest!
He told Southwick to fix the frigate’s position, using both the compass and horizontal sextant angles, and as soon as the master had done that Ramage gave the order for the Dido to turn away to the south-west, to round Cap Salomon three miles off and then turn south to start patrolling west of Diamond Rock, where the wind was steady and the current less strong.
When hands were piped to dinner, and as the Dido turned southwards, Stafford said to the four Frenchmen: ‘Well, now you’ve seen it, what do you think of Diamond Rock?’
‘You must have been goats to capture it,’ Gilbert said. ‘Only goats could climb up there. And as for swaying up guns…’
Stafford laughed at the memory. ‘Yes, goats was about it; that rock is even steeper than it looks. As we sailed past this morning, I was amazed that we ever managed to get a gun ashore there – there’s only one tiny landing place. We hoisted the guns to the top direct from the deck, o’course, using a block and tackle. Pity those fools who took over from us ever lost it. More than six hundred feet to the top – made you feel dizzy looking down. But the battery we had at the top – I can tell you, that had a good range!’
‘What did you do for water?’
‘Ah, that was the problem. The island is as dry as – well, a piece o’ rock. Every drop of water had to be landed. I fink that’s how the French recaptured it – our chaps ran out of water. I can tell you, it’s hot up there – the rock holds the heat. Doesn’t seem to get any cooler at night, either.’
Jackson said: ‘Staff’s main memory of the place is that he didn’t get his regular tot. As you know, he’s partial to a drop of rum.’
‘I dunno about a tot,’ Stafford grumbled. ‘All I can remember was wishing for a pint of cold water. That’s all I could think about. I even dreamed about it.’
‘It was just off Diamond Rock that we captured the Calypso,’ Jackson told the Frenchmen. ‘Mr Ramage was given command of her as a sort of recognition of what he had done in capturing the Rock. By the way, did you notice that frigate in Port Royal?’
‘Yes,’ Rossi said. ‘Is like the Calypso. A sister, I think.’
‘I think so, too: she has the same sheer, from what I could see of her.’
‘I wonder what’s happened to our Calypso,’ Stafford said. ‘Probably commissioned again and flogging up and down the Channel. Chasing French privateers. I’m glad we left her: all that cold and wet. That’s what I like about the West Indies – it’s nice and warm. Even the rain is warm.’
‘Wait until we get a hurricane: then you’ll change your tune.’
‘You forget we’ve already been through one hurricane here. I can still hear those masts going by the board in the Triton brig. You must admit, Jacko,’ Stafford said, ‘that it was a wet and windy few hours.’
‘I can remember how we drifted afterwards – what was the name o’ that island? Oh yes, Culebra. Sad to think of the wreck of the Triton still on that reef.’
‘You can say one thing about serving with Mr Ramage,’ Stafford said. ‘At least there’s plenty o’ variety. Too much, some might say. Not me,’ he added hastily. ‘I enjoy it.’
Chapter Thirteen
Ramage sat at his desk and swung the chair round so that he was facing the gathered men, ‘We’ve been patrolling off Diamond Rock for three days now,’ he said, ‘and the French in Fort Royal will have got over their surprise at seeing us off the port. They’ll have been reassured to see the Scourge resume her patrol. So I think it’s time to give them another shock.’
He crossed his legs and said quietly: ‘I don’t know how many of you had a good look at that frigate in Fort Royal. Those that did probably noticed that she was a sister ship of the Calypso. This would not be important but for the fact that it means all the former Calypsos know their way around her with their eyes shut. That would not be very important either except that I propose cutting her out in two nights’ time, a no-moon period.’
The frigate, he explained, could slip out any night and overwhelm the Scourge, but the brig would almost certainly notice if the seventy-four was preparing to sail. ‘As I see it,’ Ramage said, ‘the frigate is the seventy-four’s eyes: her job is to go out and scout for the convoy – probably four or five days before they guess it is due. Then it reports to the seventy-four, which sails and escorts the convoy in the last fifty or a hundred miles – through the area where the British
might try to interfere.
‘If we capture the frigate, then the seventy-four has to sail to look for the convoy – in other words we get her out of Fort Royal and have a chance of capturing or sinking her.’
‘Most of my Marines never served in the Calypso, but I hope that doesn’t mean you’ll be leaving them out, sir?’ Rennick asked anxiously.
Ramage laughed and reassured the Marine captain. ‘No, it just means that the former Calypsos will form a good nucleus. I don’t know how many former Calypsos you sent off in the prizes, but with a bit of luck nearly a quarter of your men should have served in the Calypso.’
‘I don’t know how many are left, sir,’ Rennick admitted, ‘but there are enough that I can make them section leaders.’
‘Good. Now listen, everyone, this is roughly my plan.’
Ramage’s plan revolved round the Dido’s six boats: the number of men they could carry governed his attack on the frigate. The launch was reckoned to carry twenty-four men for cutting out, while the two pinnaces and three cutters took sixteen men each, a total of 104 seamen and Marines. But they were attacking on a moonless night, so the Dido could approach closely, and he could put another five men in each boat, without the danger of exhausting the men at the oars. That brought his force up to 134. Well, the frigate would have a ship’s company of at least two hundred, although all but a few would be asleep at the time of the attack. Surprise and darkness should double the effectiveness of his force.
Captains of ships of the line perhaps should not lead cutting out expeditions, but he was determined not to be left out of this one. He would command the launch, Aitken the 32-foot pinnace, Kenton the 28-foot pinnace, Martin and Hill the two 25-foot cutters, and Rennick the 18-foot cutter. Southwick would be left in command of the Dido – Ramage anticipated, correctly, protests from the older master, who could not bear the thought of being left out of a fight – and Ramage decided to take the gunner along in the launch, to help control twenty-nine eager sailors and Marines. He was also curious to see how Higgins would behave in a boat action. So far, in the two actions in which the Dido had so far fought, Higgins had been shut up in the magazine. There was, Ramage knew only too well, nothing like a night boat action for testing a man: was he nervous, was he indecisive, did he panic – all would be revealed, and by taking Higgins with him, any failure on the part of the gunner would not affect the handling of a boat.
He had eighty-eight Marines remaining, after losing men to prizes. He needed at least thirty seamen. He scribbled a sum on a piece of paper. Yes, he could take all the Marines and still have room for the seamen. Well, that would please Rennick, who would be able to bring along his two lieutenants, four sergeants and four corporals and try them out. Not that there was any need to try out Sergeant Ferris and the two corporals who had come from the Calypso: they had already been in action several times.
Ramage found he was enjoying planning the details of the raid. For a start the Marines would all carry pistols, not the clumsy muskets which would be cumbersome when boarding the enemy. Pistols and cutlasses. The same for the seamen, who would also have boarding pikes, half pikes or tomahawks – they would be allowed the choice.
He did not like the idea of risking all the Dido’s topmen, although the men who went aloft in the darkness to let fall the sails would be the most important in the raid, because they might well end up sailing the frigate out of Fort Royal with fighting still going on. Providing, Ramage told himself, that there was an offshore wind. If there was, the frigate would just about sail herself out to sea: it only needed a couple of hands at the wheel.
And that was the next part of his plan: twenty Marines had to be told off to secure the quarterdeck, and particularly the wheel, and hold it whatever happened.
Prisoners? Those Frenchmen who could swim would probably jump over the side as soon as they realised their ship had been captured and was being sailed out of Fort Royal, but that would still leave a large number on board who would have to be secured. They could be sent ashore later under a flag of truce – Ramage decided he was unwilling to sacrifice too many more men in a prize. Returning French seamen did not mean very much, since they could not have the ships to put them in – unless they packed them into the seventy-four.
Muffling the oars – Aitken would have to pay special attention to that. A gun to each boat, in case the alarm was given and they had to fight their way on board – and plenty of case shot, not roundshot, because they would be trying to kill men, not damage the ship. Water – they should have enough water breakers in each boat to refresh the oarsmen.
But what if the whole attack failed, and the French were lying in wait for them and drove them off? A rocket to signal the Dido to sail in as close as possible to take them off, assuming they would be badly mauled.
Ramage soon found he had a small pile of paper on his desk, notes for Aitken, Rennick and the other lieutenants. As he collected up the pages he told himself that it was not possible to plan against all the eventualities: things happened that no man could have anticipated, and by giving too many instructions it was possible to paralyse the officers, making them too rigid to respond to something out of the ordinary.
He leafed through his notes. Yes, that was about right: he was telling them what he wanted to happen, without making the orders too rigid.
He called to the sentry to pass the word for the first lieutenant. When Aitken arrived Ramage told him to alter course for Cap Salomon, and as soon as they were off it to make the signal for the Scourge’s captain to come on board. The captain of the brig had to be told what was going on. There was nothing for the brig to do, other than continue her patrol as usual, but she had to be warned to expect fireworks and to take no notice should she see rockets lighting up the sky from the direction of the French frigate.
It took four hours to get up close enough to make a signal to the Scourge and get Lieutenant Bennett on board. The brig’s captain listened to what Ramage told him without enthusiasm. Ramage had half expected that the young man would want to take part in the expedition, supplying at least a couple of boats, but there was no such suggestion: Bennett heard Ramage out in silence, and then returned to his ship.
By now it was dusk, and Ramage ordered the Dido to return to Diamond Rock and heave to for the night. As soon as they were back off the Rock, Ramage sent for Aitken, Southwick and Rennick, and when they were seated in his cabin he said: ‘Tomorrow we go to the westwards, out of sight of land, and practise the cutting out.’
‘What do we use as a frigate?’ asked Rennick.
‘The Dido. Her lowerdeck gunports are 7 feet 6 inches off the water forward and 5 feet 8 inches amidships. With the gunports open, they’ll be just about right for the men to climb up from the boats. We might fire a few muskets off over their heads, just to get them used to the idea.’
‘The new men need it,’ Rennick said. ‘The men I brought from the Calypso have smelled powder many times. They’ll steady the new men, if need be.’
Ramage told Aitken: ‘Don’t choose only former Calypsos among the seamen; mix in some new men. We’ve got to get them blooded.’
Aitken laughed at Ramage’s unexpected use of the hunting term. ‘You don’t have to listen to the Calypsos grumbling at being left out. They will regard the new men as a crowd of Johnnie Comelatelys. I take it you’ll want your usual boat’s crew in the launch?’
‘Of course,’ Ramage said with a grin. ‘The captain’s boat has the captain’s crew. Jackson and the rest of them wield useful cutlasses.’
‘Seems as though I am the only one being left out,’ grumbled Southwick. ‘You all go off on a cutting out expedition and leave me here on board twiddling my thumbs.’
‘I don’t regard being left in command of a 74-gun ship as twiddling your thumbs,’ Ramage said firmly. ‘Think back to the Kathleen cutter and the Triton brig – you never thought that one day you’d be commanding a ship of the line.’
‘Nor did you!’ Southwick retorted. ‘But the point
is I’m not commanding her in action. I’m just acting as a horseholder while you are off enjoying a good fight. Why not leave Kenton or Martin in command?’
‘Because they don’t have your experience. If something unexpected happens and the Dido has to do something – and you know well enough the chances of that – I would sooner rely on you doing the right things than one of those lads. They’re keen and willing, but they just haven’t your experience.’
‘Oh, very well,’ said Southwick slightly mollified. ‘It’s just that I enjoy a fight, too!’
What Ramage knew he could not say was that there were two sides to an action – a lesson he had learned the hard way. There was the fighting, which was usually straightforward, and there was writing the despatch about it afterwards. It looked bad if a captain wrote that he had left command of his ship with, say, the third lieutenant. It was all right to leave it with the first lieutenant (who was in any case second-in-command) or with the master, who though a warrant and not a commission officer, was always experienced in ship handling. An admiral (and their Lordships) would accept a master where they would not accept a third or fourth lieutenant. And, Ramage had to admit, it was a reasonable enough attitude. It just made it hard on Southwick, who all too often was the one who was left behind.
It was a hot and humid night, cloudless but dark apart from the starlight. The wind was light, tending to fitful. The Dido had just passed Cap Salomon about three miles off and Pointe de la Baleine was now broad on the starboard bow. It was, Ramage reflected, a peaceful beginning to what was going to be a bloody night. The Dido was gliding along in a calm sea, leaving little more than a hint of a phosphorescent wake.
Ramage still found it hard to believe, on a night such as this, that he commanded a ship of the line, and he still marvelled at the complexity and sheer size of the ship. For instance, it had taken two thousand large trees, each weighing a couple of tons, to build her. Her sails – hardly strained in this wind – totalled 10,700 yards of canvas, and weighed more than six tons. The standing rigging weighed twenty-seven tons and the running rigging seventeen tons.
