by Dudley Pope
That meant that the convoy was in two or three columns, with a frigate ahead and astern and one on either beam, although they would very soon shift the frigate on the land side out to seaward. That told Ramage much of what he wanted to know: the French were not expecting trouble, otherwise the merchantmen would be bunched up. Fear was the only certain recipe for good station-keeping. The escort must be expecting one British frigate at most, and they would be confident they could drive her off. Most French frigates had thirty-six guns, four more than the majority of the British, and they rarely put to sea with a ship's company of less than 300. They might even have seen La Créole, identified her as a French privateer; and concluded that the British had lifted the blockade.
The Master came up to the quarterdeck to report that everything was ready forward and Ramage looked at his watch. 'We won't be weighing for another hour, Mr Southwick. Hoist out the boats, and then beat to quarters. We'll have time to get guns loaded and run out before we leave here. If we have enough grommets, get fifteen extra roundshot on deck for each gun. And make sure the men keep the head pumps busy, wetting the deck every few minutes, in this heat.'
He thought for a moment and remembered that all the Marines were in the Surcouf. 'Let's have every musket and pistol on board ready and loaded: stack them along the centre line if necessary, if there aren't enough hooks for them.'
'D'you want grappling irons rigged, sir?'
Ramage shook his head. 'We'll have no need of them. And,' he added, trying to make his voice sound casual, 'make sure the carpenter has a good supply of shot plugs ready . . .'
The stay tackle was hooked on and the launch was hoisted off the booms amidships, swung over the side and lowered. While it was being hauled aft, where it would tow astern, one of the cutters was being hooked on. Fifteen minutes later the Juno's four boats were astern, out of the way. Leaving them stowed on board in their normal position would have meant a grave risk of enemy shot shattering them and hurling lethal showers of splinters over the men at the guns. Splinters caused more casualties than actual shot. Towed astern the boats were out of the way and far less likely to be damaged.
While some men were hauling at the stay tackle, others were hurrying round the deck placing the grommets, thick rope rings, in which shot would rest like grotesque black eggs in a nest. Arms chests were hoisted up from below and muskets taken out and loaded, the first of them being put in the racks on the inside of the bulwarks between the guns. Loaded pistols, cutlasses and tomahawks were hung on hooks beside them, while the long boarding pikes, their ash handles well varnished, were stowed vertically in their racks round the masts, looking from a distance like bundles of steel-tipped fascines.
Now the crews of each gun were going through the loading procedure, working on their own because there were no officers to give them orders. The locks had been brought up from the magazine and secured to the breech of the guns, the flints had been checked and the trigger lines coiled up and placed on the breeches. The tompions protecting the muzzles of the guns had been taken out, the tackles overhauled so the ropes would run freely. Sponge and match tubs were being rolled into position and filled from a head pump rigged amidships which had already wetted the decks.
Down below, heavy blankets soaked with water had been hung up, surrounding the approaches to the magazine, so that no flash from an explosion could get through and detonate the powder stored there. Already the gunner was in the magazine itself, wearing felt slippers (shoes might set off loose powder), passing the cartridges through the blanket fire screens to waiting boys who slid them into the cylindrical wooden cartridge boxes, slipped the lids on and brought them up on deck, where they waited along the centre line behind their particular guns until called by the gun captains.
Black leather fire buckets with 'Juno' painted on them were also being topped up with water at the head pump and put back on their hooks under the quarterdeck rail, where they would swing with the roll of the ship and not spill. The fire engine would be hauled out and its cistern filled with water. In the ward-room Bowen was preparing his instruments and his assistant was winding bandages. The ward-room table had been scrubbed and lines put ready to hold writhing men. Beside it was an empty tub, the receptacle for 'wings and limbs' in case amputations were necessary.
Normally when the Juno went into action her Captain and Master were on the quarterdeck, with the four lieutenants at the guns, each commanding a division. Now Ramage was relying entirely on the gun captains, who were trained seamen but nevertheless accustomed to having an officer behind them bellowing orders through the thick smoke and noise of battle. He had assembled all the gun captains and second captains earlier and told them to use their common sense. The moment they heard Ramage tell them to open fire, they were to continue as long as their guns would bear, but they must fire steadily, with every shot well aimed.
La Créole was still in sight running west for two or three miles from Diamond Hill and then beating back, always in sight of the Juno and of the French, her Tricolour flying. Behaving, in fact, just as the French officers in the convoy would expect a privateer to behave. She was fast enough to ignore the current; her great fore and aft sails drove her through the water as though she were a skimming dish.
Less than half an hour after giving the series of orders to Southwick Ramage walked round the ship, listening always for a hail from the masthead or quarterdeck warning of another signal from La Créole, talking with the men and inspecting the positions. There had been enough grommets for twenty extra rounds to be stored beside each gun, in addition to those always kept in the shot garlands along the bulwarks and round the coamings.
He peered into the cistern of the fire engine, examined the stands of muskets, sent for the carpenter and listened to his report that shot plugs, boards and tools were ready, heard from a bosun's mate that the tiller tackles were in position, ready to be rigged if the wheel was shot away, and preventer stays prepared in case masts were damaged.
Satisfied that the ship was ready for action, he had an encouraging word with each of the gun captains and went down to his cabin to collect his pistols and sword. Back on the quarterdeck a look through the telescope showed that the Surcouf’s, guns were run out, her boats in the water astern, and Aitken walking up and down the quarterdeck with enviable nonchalance. Obviously he was satisfied that his ship was ready and, like Ramage, impatient for the final signal from La Créole.
The Surcouf had fine lines; the French certainly designed handsome ships. The sheer had a graceful sweep and the bow a pleasing flare. Any captain would be pleased with her appearance, and Ramage knew that few admirals would find fault with her. Yet in three hours she might be reduced to a shattered hulk, lying dead in the water with her masts hanging over the side in a tangle of rigging, her hull and decks torn up by roundshot.
He shivered despite the heat. The Juno could be close to her in the same condition with not a dozen men alive in both ships to raise a cheer or cry for quarter. In considering the number of ships, the odds were only two to one in favour of the French, but in numbers of men (and that was what counted in the end) the odds were about nine to one because there would be about 1200 Frenchmen in their four frigates.
Nine to one. It was the first time he had reduced his gamble to actual figures, and it frightened him. Two frigates against four seemed acceptable, but one of his men against nine Frenchmen was monstrous. What right had he to take his handful of men into battle against such odds? They all trusted him, from Southwick and Aitken to the cook's mate and the youngest powder monkey: the sight of the two frigates with their guns run out was proof of that. They trusted him to work out the odds and only ask of them what was reasonable. He had abused their trust, He held out his hands and clenched all but one of his fingers. Nine to one. If you committed suicide, the Church would not allow your body to be buried in consecrated ground. It was just as well that the sea obligingly accepted whatever it was offered. Then he remembered that not five minutes earlier he had picture
d the Juno and Surcouf drifting, shattered shells, manned by corpses, and he cursed his imagination: it killed men and sank ships before their time.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
As the Juno stretched close-hauled down the coast, making a bare five knots and with the Surcouf following in her wake two hundred yards astern, the headland formed by Diamond Hill was fine on the larboard bow. The wind was fluking round the peak and freshening. Ramage guessed that once they were out of the lee of the land it would probably be from the east-north-east.
Diamond Rock had just come in sight clear of the headland and Ramage could see La Créole a couple of miles beyond it, well placed to give Wagstaffe a clear view of the convoy approaching the Fours Channel from the east still unaware that two British frigates were coming down from the north-west.
Wagstaffe had made no more signals, apart from reporting that the convoy was following the coast. He must be confident that it would reach the trap of the Fours Channel just as the Juno and Surcouf arrived to spring it. Leaving him with the responsibility of timing the operation had put a heavy load on the shoulders of the Juno's former Second Lieutenant. At first it had worried Ramage that so young a man could wreck everything through carelessness or nervousness. But the young Londoner had impressed him at last evening's conference in the cabin: he had asked several questions that revealed a quick and lively mind, not nervousness or indecision.
Ramage looked astern once again. The Surcouf was a fine sight in the Juno's wake, topsails and topgallants filled in taut curves, her guns rows of stubby black fingers, pointing menacingly through the ports, her bow wave like a white moustache flowing up from the cutwater. Within half an hour the guns would be belching smoke, but for the moment gulls wheeled round her and flying fish flashed low over the water, silver darts aimed without targets.
The French merchant ships were presumably still in the same formation, probably three columns with three ships forming the middle one and two the outer, but the four frigates would no longer be surrounding them. The land covered the eastern side of the convoy from attack, and would continue to do so all the way up to Fort Royal, so one frigate would probably be ahead, one abreast the leading merchantmen, another abreast the last one, and the fourth astern. This meant that the Juno, beating through the Fours Channel to attack the convoy from ahead, would have to dodge two frigates to get at the merchantmen, and the Surcouf, going on to round the Diamond itself before tacking up to cut off the convoy's retreat, would have to deal with the other two.
Ramage looked round at Orsini. 'You have signal number thirteen bent on ready?'
'Aye, aye, sir,' he said, and added: 'Prepare for battle, sir.'
Ramage nodded. 'And the Diamond Rock's pendant and number 123?'
'Aye, aye, sir. To the Juno and Ramage batteries, special signal, Attack the enemy's convoy of merchant ships or transports.’
'Don't get them mixed up, then,' Ramage warned, 'so that you hoist the wrong one.'
The boy pointed to two different halyards. 'No chance of that, sir.'
'And don't mislay the signal book, in case I need to make a signal in a hurry.'
'No, sir,' the boy said patiently, and then grinned. ‘I doubt if you'll need to use number sixteen, though, Engage the enemy more closely.'
Ramage smiled, glad of the boy's confidence. 'No, the lads need no encouraging.'
He watched the steep cliffs, the shadows almost vertical. They were approaching the end of the headland rapidly now. In a few minutes the land would turn away sharply to the eastward and then curve in again like a huge sickle, the point being Diamond Hill headland, the blade the long beach of the Grande Anse du Diamant and the handle the two headlands at the far end. A mile off the tip of the sickle, like a clump of wheat that it was about to reap, was the Diamond Rock.
Southwick came up the quarterdeck ladder, his great sword at his waist, bushy hair poking out from beneath his hat like a half-squeezed mop and his nose bright red from sunburn. 'No sign of the Admiral then, sir?' He rubbed his hands. 'That means we certainly don't share the prize-money - apart from his usual eighth!'
'We might be glad to see him before the day is out,' Ramage said with unintended harshness.
'We'll go through that convoy like a knife through butter!' Southwick declared cheerfully. 'You'll see, sir.'
'They'll be dead to windward of us,' Ramage reminded him.
'And as you mentioned last evening, sir, they'll never expect us to dare to beat up through them. They'll be like a flock of hens waking up to find a fox in the coop!'
As both men talked, they watched the headland of Diamond Hill drawing abeam and Ramage was reminded of watching a theatre stage as a curtain was drawn back, slowly exposing the scenery and the players.
Wagstaffe by now had La Créole about two miles southeast of the Diamond Rock; from there he could reach up right into the middle of the convoy. Because La Créole was still flying the Tricolour, the moment the French saw the Juno and the Surcouf they would assume she was fleeing from them and seeking protection.
The men at the Juno and Ramage batteries on the Diamond could see both the British frigates coming down to the headland from the north-west and the French convoy creeping along the coast. 'Like a crossroads,' Ramage said to himself and only realized he had spoken aloud when Southwick swung round questioningly. 'I was thinking of the French coming up to this headland from the east while we're approaching from the north-west. Like two coaches approaching along sunken lanes and not seeing each other until they're almost at the crossroads.'
'Just one coach,' Samthwick corrected with a broad grin. 'We're the highwaymen!'
Now they could see clear across the great bight to Pointe des Salines at the southern end of the island that reminded Ramage of a boot. They were rounding the toe cap and could just see the heel with the instep still hidden.
'They must be sticking very close to the coast,' Southwick growled. 'I'd have thought we'd have seen the first of 'em by now.'
Ramage gestured to the end of the headland which was drawing aft at what seemed an alarming speed, but he knew it was only anxiety playing tricks with time.
'Deck there!' came a hail from aloft, 'a frigate on the larboard bow, sir, three miles or more, in line with the headland.'
And there she was, ringed in the telescope lens. He saw a second one beyond her just as the lookout hailed again. The first must be on the convoy's bow, the second on the quarter. Then he saw the third frigate, which was obviously leading the convoy and well ahead of it. The convoy was just at the beginning of the Fours Channel and the timing was perfect.
'Hoist our colours,' Ramage snapped at Orsini. That was the prearranged signal to Aitken that the Juno had sighted the French ships and could herself be sighted and identified. Ramage watched the three frigates closely. At any moment there should be a flurry of flag signals, warning that enemy ships were in sight. With any luck, while the French escort prepared to deal with the enemy La Créole would be getting in among them, apparently a welcome reinforcement but actually positioning herself to act as a Trojan horse.
‘I can see a merchantman now,' Ramage told Southwick, trying to keep his voice even. 'And another beyond her – the ships in the outer column. And another, and two beyond - the centre column ...'
With the wind coming free as they passed clear of the headland, Ramage watched the dog vanes. A glance down at the compass showed it trying to make up its mind between northeast and east-north-east.
'Close-hauled, if you please, Mr Southwick; we should be able to lay south-east comfortably!'
Southwick began bellowing into a speaking trumpet and as Jackson gave orders to the men at the wheel, carefully watching the luffs of the sails, seamen hauled at the sheets and braces, flattening in the sails. Astern the Surcouf was bearing away slightly on to a direct course for the Diamond Rock and Ramage realized that the French ship was faster than the Juno. Aitken would fetch the Diamond with the wind a point free, perhaps more. So much the better; she had farther
to sail and the sooner she reached the Rock and rounded it to close off the eastern entrance of the Fours Channel the better,
By the time he looked back over the larboard beam the Fours Channel was in sight and there was the whole French convoy sailing towards him. There were three columns of merchant ships, as he had expected, with one frigate ahead, two out to seaward, and one astern. They were relying on the coast to protect the whole inshore side of the convoy. He must let them go on thinking that the land shielded them.
‘If we could only get between them and the beach ...’ Southwick murmured wistfully. 'Still, Wagstaffe timed it well. They're all just about in the Channel.'
'Not yet,' Ramage said. 'Another half a mile to go. They're just outside the range of the Juno and Ramage batteries. Give 'em ten or fifteen minutes.'
'But they might turn and bolt!' Southwick exclaimed anxiously.
'Come now, Mr Southwick,' Ramage chided, 'you don't really expect seven merchantmen to try to beat back to Pointe des Salines, do you?' He glanced astern and saw that the Surcouf would now be in sight of the French. 'Why should they be frightened of a couple of frigates when they're so near home and have a schooner coming along to help them!'
'Sorry, sir,' said Southwick with mock contrition. ‘I just can't stand the thought of those beggars getting away after all our preparations.' With that he picked up his telescope and looked at the Diamond. 'No sign of the Juno battery - just bushes.' He trained the telescope lower. 'I can just see the cave at the back of the Ramage battery but no sign of guns or men.' He swung the telescope round to the east. 'Wagstaffe’s tacked. He'll just be able to lay the tail of the convoy.'
Ramage, still watching the French frigates, saw a string of flags hoisted from the leading one. He cursed his lack of a French signal book: they had searched La Créole and La Mutine the moment they were captured, but there were no papers on board, not even a muster table. More flags were hoisted and all the frigates repeated them. A few moments later he realized that the second signal must have been to the convoy because the merchantmen were now beginning to bunch up, the outside ships closing in on the centre column. Instead of three columns of ships there was soon just a group, like seven sheep crowding together as a sheepdog circled them. More important, though, they stayed on the same course. They were coming through the Fours Channel . . .
