Ramage's Diamond r-7

by Dudley Pope

  Everything was going as planned. Southwick looked questioningly and when Ramage nodded the Master lifted the speaking trumpet to his lips, bellowed a string of orders, and the Juno's foretopsail yard began to swing round, the sail falling and then flapping wildly before the wind filled it. Slowly the Juno began to move, her bow paying off to begin with, until she gathered enough way for the rudder to get a bite on the water.

  The Surcouf was dropping away to starboard as La Créole hauled her bow round and drawing astern as the Juno began to forge ahead. Ramage looked across at the French frigate's quarterdeck and saw Wagstaffe standing by the binnacle while Jackson acted as quartermaster. Two Junos were at the wheel and the French seamen, their hands above their heads, were being marched below.

  Southwick was now facing aft on the quarterdeck, his eyes glued to the heavy cable. The Juno's transom was abreast the Surcouf's jibboom end and already the cable was beginning to move where it led out through the Juno's sternchase port: several feet slid out, like an enormous snake leaving a hole, and as the frigate's speed increased more followed.

  Ramage was torn between watching ahead to make sure the Juno cleared the shoal running south-west from the Fort and looking aft over the quarterdeck in case the cable twisted into a large kink that might jam in the port.

  The cable was running freely so far, the friction causing a faint blue haze of smoke round the gun port: perhaps a hundred feet had gone but there were still two hundred to go. And the Juno must not be moving too fast when the entire weight of the Surcouf really came on the cable. That could be enough to pull the Juno's stern round and throw the sails a'back, and with so few men left in the Juno he knew that if that happened the frigate could be out of control for long enough for them to be blown ashore or dragged astern by the weight of the cable so that she hit the Surcouf.

  He dare look aft no longer: the water ahead was showing a light green, marking the beginning of the shoal off the end of Fort St Louis. It was time the Juno began to bear away to the westward to get out of the bay. He snatched up the speaking trumpet and began bellowing orders. The wheel was put over as the yards were trimmed and he knew the frigate was still only towing the cable through the water: luckily the Surcouf’s weight had not yet come on it. For a moment he pictured getting into water so shallow that the long curving bight of cable sagging down between the two ships snagged on a great rock on the bottom or caught on a shoal of coral, but every passing moment lessened that risk because the Juno's forward movement was slowly straightening it out.

  'A hundred and fifty feet o' cable to run, sir,' Southwick called.

  Ramage turned to the quartermaster. 'Watch for the last of the cable. The moment the strain comes on there'll be an almighty kick on the wheel.' The quartermaster nodded and Ramage noticed that there were already four men at the spokes and the quartermaster was positioning himself to give a hand if necessary.

  'A hundred feet to go, sir, and it's running well,' Southwick reported.

  The Juno was slowly turning to starboard now and would clear the shoal by a hundred feet, and once the strain came on the cable she would be able to run out to the west.

  'Fifty feet, twenty-five, ten . . . there it goes!' Southwick shouted jubilantly.

  There was no sudden shock but the Juno slowed perceptibly and Ramage looked aft to see the five men fighting the wheel. Astern the Surcouf was slowly gathering way as the cable tautened and Ramage saw the hint of a bow wave. Then, in a direct line from the Juno's stern chase port to the French frigate's bow, the cable suddenly straightened and shot out of the water, and then splashed back, like a whip. The Surcouf began yawing, her bow swinging to starboard and then back to larboard. Each yaw increased the dead weight on the end of the cable so that the Juno was like a dog with a heavy weight tied to its tail. The five men fought the wheel, cursing and grunting, but then managed to keep the ship under control.

  ‘Give Jackson a few minutes to get used to handling the Frenchman,' Ramage called encouragingly.

  Gradually the Surcouf’s yawing eased, like a dog settling down on a leash, and in the clear water Ramage could see the shallow curve of the cable. Beyond the Surcouf Aitken's schooner was tacking back and forth: La Créole's task now was to cover the two frigates against any schooners that might come out of the Salée River.

  He looked round for La Mutine and saw her just off the town, coming head to wind with sails flapping and an enormous white flag flying from the peak of her main gaff. Suddenly Ramage realized that in the excitement he had forgotten all about Fort St Louis. There were no tell-tale puffs of smoke. Surely the Juno's sudden attack on the Surcouf had not taken them completely by surprise? But he had no idea whether five minutes or an hour had passed since he had waved to Jackson to drop the Tricolour so perhaps they had had too little time to do anything.

  Their progress was painfully slow, but at least the men were not having to fight the wheel now. He walked aft to join Southwick and crouched down to look through the sternchase port. The cable was making a perfect catenary curve and the Surcouf's yawing had almost stopped. 'I think we can carry more canvas now,' he commented. 'I wish those damned Frenchmen had finished fitting out the ship,' Southwick grumbled. 'It'd have been a sight easier to sail her out!'

  'We'd have had a couple of hundred Frenchmen to argue with though, instead of just a handful,' Ramage pointed out.

  Southwick shrugged his shoulders. ‘If you'd be good enough to keep an eye on the cable, sir, I'll try the forecourse.'

  The end of the shoal was on the Juno's quarter now, so there was deep water right out of the bay. La Mutine was riding at anchor and he saw her boat heading for the shore, looking like a tiny water beetle from this distance. It would probably be nightfall before he knew whether the French had honoured the flag of truce: Baker was due to rejoin them by midnight.

  He looked forward and saw the Juno's, great forecourse tumbling down from the yard, creased and shapeless like an enormous white curtain until the men began sheeting it home and the wind gave it shape, swelling it into a billowing curve. He watched the cable tauten slightly, saw that the quartermaster was now standing back from the wheel, quite confident the four men could handle it.

  Ramage took out the telescope to inspect the Surcouf. There were a dozen men on the fo'c'sle. His orders had included a party with axes ready to cut the cable in an emergency. He thought he could make out Wagstaffe on the quarterdeck and he was standing still, not rushing about, so he must be confident.

  Southwick came aft and Ramage gestured astern at the Juno's wake. 'We've picked up a knot or more and she seems to like it. We'll try the topsail as well.'

  Fifteen minutes later the Juno, with the Surcouf in tow and La Créole tacking across their wake, passed half a mile south of Pointe des Nègres, at last clear of Fort Royal Bay. A large Red Ensign streamed in the wind from the Surcouf, and when Ramage saw it being hoisted he grinned to himself: one of the boarders from the Juno must have taken it with him.

  He was hot, he was tired, he had not slept for some thirty hours but he was cheerful. He only wanted to hear that the French had honoured La Mutine's flag of truce, taken off their wounded and the prisoners, and released the schooner, and he would know that his gamble had succeeded completely.

  There had been casualties, but in the confusion on board the Surcouf he had not noticed any Junos lying on the deck. There must have been a few, but so far they had paid a small price for the capture of a frigate and two schooners. He looked down at the compass and then across at Cap Salomon, which was just opening up to the south as the two frigates continued westward.

  'Mr Southwick, I think we can now alter course for the Diamond,' he said.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Ramage's steward brought in a pot of hot tea on a tray, put it on the side of the desk and said: 'When will you be ready for your shaving water, sir? I've laid out fresh clothes.'

  Ramage looked up weary and unshaven and put down his pen. His eyes felt full of sand and his head ached
. 'Another half an hour,' he said. 'Pass the word for Mr Southwick and bring another cup and saucer for him.' He heard the distant bleating of several goats and the mewing of gulls. Occasionally there was the heavy splash of a pelican diving into the water nearby in the endless search for fish, but apart from that and the noise of men working on deck, there was only the sound of water lapping against the Juno's side as she swung to her anchorage early this Monday morning.

  The anchorage, two cables north of Diamond Rock in five fathoms of water, was a comfortable one. The Surcouf was lying just to the south, riding to the cable that had towed her down from Fort Royal, and La Mutine was between the two frigates and the great rock. Out to the west La Créole was stretching seaward until she could see up the coast towards Cap Salomon and then back to round the Diamond. One of the Juno's lookouts aloft was watching the coast but so far he had nothing to report. There was no sign of activity along the two miles of sandy beach forming the Grande Anse du Diamant. No doubt the Governor would send cavalry patrols along the coast to see if the Juno and her prize were at anchor in one of the many bays or if both ships were on their way to Barbados. The naval commander would probably have told him that it was easy enough for the Juno to tow the Surcouf the hundred or so miles to windward; he might even speculate that the Juno's captain would leave the two captured schooners to maintain the blockade, so that the expected convoy, which the French had no reason to think Ramage knew about, had nothing to fear. Ramage was reasonably sure (or, more correctly, trying to persuade himself that he could be) that the French would never dream he would try to finish refitting the Surcouf. He was quite sure Rear-Admiral Davis would never dream of it.

  He stared down at the report that he had been writing: it was the third draft, and young Baker was waiting to leave for Barbados in La Mutine to deliver it to the Admiral. Describing the night attack on the Juno by the two schooners and their capture was no problem; using La Mutine as a flag of truce, and the Juno and the Créole to cut out the Surcouf was covered in four paragraphs. The warning that the French were expecting a convoy in a week took a couple of lines. He included the polite suggestion that the convoy could be a week early, in which case it could arrive any moment, or a week late. What was hard was trying to tell the Admiral he was getting the Surcouf ready for the voyage to Barbados without the wily old man guessing that he intended holding on to her until the last moment, so that he had two frigates to tackle the convoy. The Admiral could, and probably would, argue that Ramage should have used the Juno to tow her to Barbados, where many more men were available to get her ready, and that the two schooners could maintain a watch on Port Royal while the Juno was away, and that by the time the convoy was due the Juno would be back ...

  There were other reasons, too, and Ramage hoped that Southwick, who had just returned on board after spending most of the night surveying the Surcouf, would confirm them. He picked up the pen and scratched out a sentence. It was always easier to fight an action than to write the dispatch about it.

  He poured out a cup of tea and idly picked up the letter which was sealed with the arms of France and addressed to 'The Admiral Commanding the English Forces at Barbados', thought once more about opening it and decided for the fifth or sixth time to send it on to Admiral Davis for whom, Baker had told him, the Governor of Fort Royal had really intended it.

  The French had finally honoured the flag of truce, though it had been necessary to send the French lieutenant on shore first. Baker said it had been a close-run affair. As soon as the French wounded had been taken on shore and the prisoners freed, the French authorities had wanted to seize the schooner and take Baker and his men prisoner. At that point the French lieutenant had unexpectedly intervened. He had described how Bowen had worked without sleep tending the French wounded; how Ramage had asked him to conduct the funeral service over the French dead; said that, as a French officer, he had agreed to the exchange and that he had come on shore in the first place on parole. If the authorities held the ship, he had said dramatically (and Baker had given a fair imitation of the gestures that went with it) he would regard himself as still a prisoner of the English. The French naval commander had finally come down to the beach and threatened to arrest the lieutenant for treason and mutiny; the lieutenant had said his honour and the honour of France was at stake, and that he would welcome being arrested because the news would eventually get back to the English. They would know then that he had not broken his word of honour and his parole but been forced into it by his own senior officers who should know better but apparently did not.

  That, Baker said, had decided it. The lieutenant was hustled off, but half an hour later another officer came out and handed over the letter from the Governor and, with ill grace, said that if La Mutine was not under way within fifteen minutes the guns of Fort St Louis would open fire. Baker had asked for an assurance that the terms of the exchange of prisoners would be observed but the officer had said he knew nothing about it; he was an aide to the Governor and had been told only to deliver the letter. With that Baker had weighed and La Mutine had caught up with the two frigates before they had reached the Diamond.

  Ramage heard footsteps on the companionway and a moment later Southwick knocked and bustled into the cabin, his eyes red-rirnmed, the flesh of his cheeks sagging with weariness, but in good spirits. He sat down in a chair with a groan, massaging his back, then when Ramage looked inquiringly he said hurriedly: 'Don't mention it to Bowen, sir; he'll only want to slap on a mustard plaister, and they don't do a damned bit o' good.'

  'Well, how many plaisters does the Surcouf need?'

  'None at all, sir,' Sauthwick said with a triumphant grin. 'She's ready to get under way the minute her sails are bent on.'

  'Our spare suit - can we alter any of them to make them fit? Cut out some panels or sew on some more? Her yards look shorter than ours.'

  'That's just it,' Southwick said gleefully, slapping his knee, 'all her sails are on board! Sails, clewlines, buntlines, blocks - everything! I reckon they were just about to get them up from the sail room when the best of her men and the first lieutenant were taken off and sent to the schooners.'

  Ramage gave a sigh of relief. 'What about provisions, powder and water?'

  Southwick dug into his pocket and pulled out a grimy sheet of paper, which he carefully smoothed out. I don't know what they intended to do with her, sir, but we know they stripped the other frigate to fit her out, and she's provisioned for three months at our establishment. I know the French usually have a ship's company half as large again as us, but ...’

  'Perhaps they were going to send her back to France.'

  'Could be, sir. Anyway the water's fresh, and from what the cooper says the casks were well scoured before they were filled. The powder is very good quality - the gunner says its as good as ours. Salt pork and salt beef, a lot o' rice, fresh bread - 1 swear it didn't leave the bakery more than a week ago. Not a weevil in it.'

  'Have you made an official inventory yet?' Ramage inquired cautiously.

  'Me, sir?' Southwick asked innocently. 'Oh, no, it'd take a week. No, I only had time to have a quick stroll through the ship with the purser, gunner, bos'n, carpenter and cooper. You didn't mention an official inventory. Proper inventories and survey, sir,' he said with an archness that would have done credit to a bishop's wife, take time: two or three days at least.'

  'In the meantime,' Ramage said, as though talking to himself, 'any rogues oould go on board and plunder the ship: they could take off provisions, water, powder . . .'

  'And rolls of canvas, firewood, new holystones - she has a score or more unused in the bos'n's store - new leather buckets, a complete set of surgical instruments, a dozen live sheep: oh dear me, sir, there's no telling what they could take if the prize crew weren't keeping a sharp lookout.'

  It was a great temptation; the Juno could stay at sea for many extra weeks without provisioning; with several tons more fresh water, for instance, she would not have to go down to St Lucia or across
to Barbados to fill her casks; the sail-maker would welcome the extra bolts of canvas . . . But it was risky: the problem would be to account for the extra stores in the Juno's books. If she was desperately short of water or powder or provisions, he would be justified in taking what he needed, but Rear-Admiral Davis knew the Juno was well-provisioned, so it became a matter of prize money. Everything on board the Surcouf would be valued, including the ship herself, and the Juno and her Captain would eventually get their share of the prize money, as would Rear-Admiral Davis. It would be a considerable amount, and by a bit of good fortune once the Admiral's eighth was deducted the rest would go to the Junos. Every British ship in sight at the time of the capture had a right to a share, but the only other British ships were the two captured schooners manned by Junos.

  He would risk it if he could take all the blame, but it would mean involving too many others who would also be brought to trial if the Admiral wanted to make an issue of it. The Master, the bos'n, purser, gunner, at least two of the lieutenants . . . An idea that had come to him when he saw the Diamond Rock for the first time - and which he had dismissed as absurd almost as soon as it appeared - was gnawing at him again.

  'Cheeses, too!' Southwick said as the memory struck him. 'Never seen so much cheese in all my days, sir, and tubs of butter. Seems a pity to let all those provisions go to Barbados when all we have to look forward to for a change of diet is goat's meat from the Diamond ...'

  Ramage jumped up, put a paperweight on the letter he had been drafting, grabbed his hat and said to Southwick: 'Come on, we're going for a short cruise in the cutter.'

  An hour later the cutter had completed a circuit of Diamond Rock and the men were resting at the oars with the boat drifting twenty yards from a flat, rocky ledge behind which was an enormous cave, its entrance yawning black-mouthed and, as Southwick commented, looking as if a great dragon would emerge at any moment, breathing fire and smoke. There was very little swell as it was too early for the Trade wind to have set in.