Ramage's Diamond

by Dudley Pope

  The clerk arrived with the fair copy of the letter to the Agent, waited until Ramage had signed it and the dispatch, and then took away both letters and the list of prisoners to seal. After wiping the pen and screwing the cap on the ink bottle, Ramage sat back and stared down at the polished grain of the desk top. In the past two days he had not had a moment for real thought. He snatched at ideas as they raced through his mind, rejecting some and adopting others; decisions seemed to arrive already made but without proper consideration. He felt like a clucking hen startled to find it had laid an egg. So far his decisions had been the correct ones, but this was due to good luck rather than judgement. It was only a matter of time, he thought gloomily, before one of the eggs turned out to be bad.

  Yes, the present difficulty is Admiral Davis, not the French. Should he have mentioned his plan in the dispatch? He sighed and tapped his fingers on the desk top. Should he, shouldn’t he, should he…and so it went on. Indecision, indecision… Well, not exactly indecision because he had already signed the dispatch without mentioning it, so at least he had decided that much. No, his bother was that, having made the decision, he was starting to question himself. It always happened, and he hated it.

  Very well, what are you trying to do, Captain Ramage? You are carrying out Admiral Davis’ orders which are simple enough: blockade Fort Royal, preventing any ships from entering or leaving. Splendid, my dear fellow; you have a firm grip on the situation. The new development is that by a stroke of good fortune you have discovered from that boastful French lieutenant that a convoy (he implied a large one) is due in Fort Royal within a week. A large convoy means a large escort, and ‘a week’ after an Atlantic crossing could mean today or two weeks’ time; more, if the convoy met bad weather off Biscay followed by Trade winds.

  Go on, Captain Ramage, he jeered at himself, so you had to make a decision: should you send the Surcouf to Barbados with a prize crew on board, with one of the schooners to bring the prize crew back, leaving yourself with only the Juno (minus the men needed to provide three prize crews) and a schooner to fight off the escorts and capture the convoy – or, at the very least, prevent it from entering Fort Royal Bay? That was the question, and it was a simple one.

  The difficulty arises because there is more than one answer. You can hurriedly fit out the Surcouf, so that you have two frigates to tackle the convoy, keeping one schooner and sending the other to Barbados with the dispatch to raise the alarm, and hope Admiral Davis is still there with the Invincible and some frigates, so that he can get under way for Martinique immediately to help tackle the convoy. (Help, he thought to himself: the Invincible and a couple of frigates would be more than enough.)

  That is one answer but it certainly is not the one that Admiral Davis will expect. It is the right answer, though – with due respect to you, Admiral – because it takes into account the time factor; that the convoy is just as likely to be early as late: one can be damned sure it will not be on time.

  Another answer would be for the Juno to tow the Surcouf to Barbados, leaving the two schooners to maintain the blockade. That is the answer that the Admiral would expect: a bird in the hand (and so a share of the prize money in the pocket) was worth two in the bush. Admiral Davis would argue that only the Invincible and more frigates could deal with the convoy, and that the Juno’s absence from Martinique for three or four days was an acceptable risk since the two schooners would be patrolling, and one could reach Barbados and raise the alarm.

  If you were an admiral, Ramage asked himself, would you accept that the commanding officer of the Juno – a young man at the bottom of the post list – could in fact perform magic, doing something which is a compromise between the two answers? Instead of sending the Surcouf to Barbados, fit her out so that quite unexpectedly an extra frigate is available for the Martinique blockade, and send a schooner to Barbados with a warning of the convoy. In the meantime, he had a plan for the Diamond that no one had ever tried…

  He balanced the quill pen on a finger. Captain Ramage was not an admiral nor ever likely to be, so he ought to look at the situation through the protruberant and bloodshot eyes of the man who was, Henry Davis, Rear-Admiral of the Red and Commander-in-Chief of his Majesty’s ships and vessels…

  The Admiral would not believe it possible, with the Juno already stripped of men to provide the prize crews for the two schooners, for Ramage to get the Surcouf ready for action within a week. He would also say – and that was much more important – that even if the French frigate could be got ready, there was still the problem of manning her. Ramage would have to halve the number of men remaining in the Juno and send them on board the Surcouf. Instead of two fully manned frigates ready for action he would have two frigates manned with skeleton crews.

  Ramage tipped the feather end of the quill so that it dropped to the desk. He had to admit that the Admiral would (by his own standards) have grounds for complaint. The difference was that the two frigates would be manned by Junos, who had already achieved more in less than a week on the station than Captain Eames and his frigate had in several months. That was not an answer he could possibly give the Admiral, though, since Captain Eames was one of his favourites.

  To divide one ship’s company between two frigates and two schooners might horrify Admiral Davis, but that was not the end of it. Ramage was proposing to take away another twenty men and use them for a hare-brained scheme which could make him the laughing stock of the Navy.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the clerk bringing back the letters, having applied the seals. The man had no sooner left the cabin than Southwick arrived with Baker, both apologizing for being so long. Ramage told them to sit down and stared at the sealed packets. The clerk had a flowing style of handwriting and Ramage picked up the letter addressed to Admiral Davis. It would take only fifteen minutes to write another one. Or he could get the Juno under way and tow the Surcouf to Barbados. Or he could see if one of the schooners could tow her, with the second schooner in company. Or –

  He picked up the two packets and handed them to Baker, deliberately ending the conflict in his mind; he then opened a drawer and took out another letter which he had written earlier.

  ‘These are your orders,’ he said. ‘They tell you to proceed to Barbados and deliver this to the Admiral and–’ he pointed to the thinner packet ‘–this to the Agent for Prisoners. If you can’t find the Agent, leave it with the Admiral’s secretary.’

  ‘Aye, aye, sir,’ Baker said. ‘I’ll be under way in a few minutes: we’ve already shortened in the cable.’

  ‘My written orders tell you to return here immediately you have delivered the dispatch,’ Ramage said. ‘It might occur to the Admiral, if he thinks about it, to keep you and La Mutine with him in Bridgetown. You might find it possible to…’

  ‘I’ll stay on board the flagship for as little time as possible, sir,’ Baker said with an understanding grin.

  ‘What about charts?’ Ramage inquired, suddenly remembering this was Baker’s first voyage as an acting commanding officer, apart from the visit to Fort Royal.

  ‘I’ve just been making copies of Mr Southwick’s, sir.’

  ‘I’ve given you copies of the challenge and reply for the next week and you have a copy of the signal book. Remember, guard them with your life and keep them in a weighted bag ready to sink if there’s a chance of you being captured.’

  ‘I know, sir.’

  ‘I know you know,’ Ramage said sternly, ‘but for the whole of your time at sea up to now it has been your commanding officer’s responsibility. Now you are the commanding officer…’

  ‘I understand, sir,’ said a chastened Baker.

  When the lieutenant left the cabin, Southwick nodded. ‘He’s a good lad, that one. Not many young third lieutenants could take command of a schooner the way he did and handle that flag of truce business so well.’

  ‘We’ve a lot to thank Lord St Vincent for,’ Ramage commented. ‘He sent us good officers.’

  The Master
straightened up in his chair and said in what Ramage immediately recognized as his serious, let’s-get-down-to-business voice: ‘The Diamond, sir, what are we–’

  Ramage held up his hand to silence him and stood up, going to the skylight and calling: ‘Deck there.’

  ‘Benson here, sir,’ the midshipman answered from the quarterdeck.

  ‘Has Mr Baker left the ship yet?’

  ‘Just gone, sir; boat’s about thirty yards away. D’you want me to hail him, sir?’

  ‘No, it’s all right,’ Ramage said, and sat down again.

  Southwick looked puzzled and Ramage smiled. ‘My dispatch to the Admiral told him that we had captured the Surcouf and were making her ready for sea. The Admiral will assume I meant making her ready to send her to Barbados. Very well, that dispatch is now on its way. Unfortunately the circumstances changed just after the dispatch had been sent and fresh decisions had to be made…’

  Southwick slapped his knee in a familiar gesture and grinned broadly. ‘So that was why you kept shutting me up.’

  ‘I don’t know how you dare suggest that your commanding officer might be party to any deception, Mr Southwick,’ Ramage said mildly. ‘I should have thought that up to now we were all far too busy to do anything more than write reports and see what was needed to get the Surcouf under way, after all, it was my duty to inform the Admiral immediately that a French convoy was expected, and using a schooner was the quickest way. I think any group of captains would see the necessity for that.’

  ‘By jove, yes!’ Southwick exclaimed, realizing that Ramage’s mention of ‘any group of captains’ was a veiled reference to the officers forming a court martial. ‘So now at last we have a few minutes to decide about the Surcouf. After you discovered you could commission her, sir, anyone would agree that you dare not send another schooner with a further report: that would weaken the blockade at a critical time.’

  ‘Precisely,’ Ramage said, ‘since the convoy is likely to arrive any day.’

  ‘When do we start the work?’ Southwick asked eagerly.

  ‘The moment La Mutine is out of sight. I want Baker to be able to tell the Admiral in all honesty that when he last saw the Surcouf her yards were bare of sails and there had been no time for anything more than a quick inspection by the Juno’s Master. That is what I say in my dispatch, incidentally.’

  ‘We’ll have those sails bent on and the ship ready for action by this time tomorrow, sir,’ Southwick promised. ‘How many men can I have for the Diamond?’

  Ramage raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. ‘What do you propose doing over there? Chase goats or let the men cut that broad-bladed grass and plait sennet hats?’

  ‘I want to get the Surcouf’s sheep landed there to start with,’ Southwick said. ‘Can’t stand the constant baaa, and there’s grazing plenty at the landing place. After that, a 12-pounder to cover the landing place – or a 6-pounder, if you’d prefer it, sir. Then two 12-pounders hoisted up on top of the Rock and another 12-pounder half-way up on the north-west side.’

  ‘How do you propose getting the 12-pounders up to the top?’ Ramage inquired mildly.

  ‘I’ll find a way,’ Southwick said grimly. ‘Give me those dozen Tritons and we’ll haul ’em up with our teeth if necessary.’

  Ramage shook his head. ‘First, I want you to get those sails bent on the Surcouf’s yards: use every able-bodied man you can find. The Marines can help if necessary. I think we need Aitken; I’m going to call him in and put Wagstaffe in command of the Créole. You’d better rouse out one of the Surcouf’s own cables; we are going to need the one we used to tow her.’

  Southwick looked puzzled. ‘The ten-inch cable, sir?’

  ‘The only way you’re going to get those guns up to the top of the Diamond is to rig a jackstay, and the other cables we have on board are seventeen inch, almost twice the weight…’

  ‘A jackstay, sir?’ Southwick exclaimed. ‘But where can you secure the lower end? The water’s too deep for the men to dive down and find a big rock, and anyway, that’d–’

  A dull and distant boom interrupted him.

  Ramage leapt up with an oath. ‘That damned battery on Diamond Hill!’

  There was a shadow at the skylight. ‘Captain, sir,’ Wagstaffe called. ‘The battery on the Hill – a single shot and it’s fallen half a mile short.’

  Ramage acknowledged the report and followed Southwick up the companionway. He took the telescope Wagstaffe was offering him and trained it on the ridge that ran round the Hill a third of the way up. It was too late, the smoke had drifted away in the wind and there was no sign of the guns. Suddenly he spotted a brief red glow, barely a pinpoint, and then a puff of smoke.

  ‘Watch the fall of shot,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t want to lose sight of the battery. A clump of six small trees permanently leaning to the west from the wind – they’re growing at the eastern end of the battery. A triangular bare rock in front. Yes, there’s a track running just below – probably goes round to join up with the road that runs short of the north-east side…’

  ‘Fell half a mile short, sir,’ Wagstaffe said.

  ‘Pass the word for the Marine lieutenant,’ Ramage said and, looking round, nodded. ‘Ah, there you are, Rennick. Take the glass and fix the position of that battery in your mind. Mr Southwick has its position marked on the chart, but you’ll have to get up it in the dark tonight, unless their shooting improves and we have to leave in a hurry.’

  A third and a fourth shot from the battery fell half a mile short, but both were in line with the Juno. Southwick gave one of his enormous sniffs of contempt but Ramage said: ‘They’re only 6-pounders. If they were 12-pounders we’d be slipping our cable in a hurry. These fellows know what they’re up to; they just don’t have the range.’

  ‘Aye, belike they’ll pass the word to the Governor and he’ll decide they need bigger guns,’ Southwick said gloomily. ‘Better we get under way now and bowl ’em over.’

  ‘Have a look through the glass,’ Ramage said patiently. ‘The battery stands well back on the ridge that spirals up the mountain. Twenty or thirty yards back, as far as I can see. Once we were close enough to open fire – don’t forget they have an advantage of being five hundred feet up – that ridge protects them: it’s a natural rampart. We’d need mortars to lob shells over the ridge and down on to them. A bomb ketch.’

  Southwick glanced at the Marine lieutenant, who was slowly swinging the telescope down the side of the mountain and across to the long beach running to the eastward, and muttered: ‘He’ll never find his way up there in the dark.’

  Ramage saw Rennick stiffen but continue his careful survey of the coastline. He had obviously heard Southwick’s comment. Then he turned, handed the telescope to Ramage and said: ‘If you can spare a boat to land me and my men at the western end of that long beach, sir, I’ll have those guns. I estimate the emplacement is large enough for three, though they’re only firing one for ranging. I’ll get them pitched over the edge within two hours.’

  Ramage nodded, pleased at the lieutenant’s enthusiasm. ‘You can have a couple of dozen seamen too, if you need them.’

  ‘Thank you, sir, but my own men will be sufficient. A few extra seamen in the boat, perhaps, in case there’s cavalry patrolling along the beach.’

  ‘Very well, get your men ready. Mr Wagstaffe, a cutter if you please, and a dozen extra men with muskets. Make sure they have plenty of powder and shot for the boat gun – cavalry might arrive before Mr Rennick returns from the battery.’

  Half an hour later Ramage and Southwick watched the cutter run up on the beach, having stayed out of range of the battery, wait for a few minutes as the Marines scrambled on shore and then come out again, rowing round to a small cove fifty yards west of the beach and in the lee of the mountain. There, Ramage noted, the boat would be out of sight of any cavalry galloping along the beach.

  Southwick grunted in the nearest he ever came to expressing satisfaction with Marines. ‘They’ll be all righ
t. Pity they can’t surprise those damned Frenchmen. Well, sir, I see the men are ready to reanchor the Surcouf to get our ten-inch cable in. I’ll go over and keep an eye on them.’

  Aitken was now bringing the schooner Créole in from the westward: he had seen the Juno’s signal ordering him on board and Wagstaffe was waiting with a seabag ready containing his clothes and quadrant. The second lieutenant was obviously excited and Ramage knew that this command, however brief it might prove to be, would make up for the disappointment of seeing the third lieutenant go off to Barbados in La Mutine.

  Ramage took a pencil and pad from his pocket and went aft with a telescope, sitting down on the breech of the aftermost gun. He spent the next half an hour examining the Diamond Rock with the telescope, occasionally making a sketch on the pad and scribbling notes.

  He had already drawn the south side of the great rock while in the cutter. There it was completely vertical from sea level to within a hundred feet or so of the top; then it sloped back gently for fifty feet, and then more sharply again to the peak. His sketch resembled a tooth, the raking pack at the top being the natural shape to bring the tooth to a point.

  His inspection in the cutter had confirmed what he had feared from the start: the only way of getting guns up the Diamond, to whatever height, was by jackstay. Only the gun covering the landing place was going to be straightforward – if lowering it to the sea bed from a boat and then dragging it ashore could be described as straightforward.

  He turned to a fresh page and copied the sketch he had made from the cutter, drawing the tooth-shaped rock with the vertical cliff face to the left. Then from sea level he drew a diagonal line up to the top of the cliff. That would be the jackstay, secured at the top round the rocky outcrop, and at the bottom to the anchored Juno. Running up the jackstay would be a big block, and from that would hang the gun. The block and gun would be hauled up the jackstay by a purchase, one set of blocks attached to the big block, and the other to the top of the cliff. The hauling part of the rope would come down to the Juno, where it would go round the capstan.