Aitken was still busy with the trim of the sails when Ramage gave Jackson a new helm order and the men at the wheel grabbed at the spokes. The ship had only just settled down on her new course with the sails trimmed when the first of the starboard broadside guns started firing, and once again the smoke drifted aft over the quarterdeck, starting them coughing again. Ramage watched the Achille's stern with his telescope and once again saw the shot hitting home. He could imagine the shot smashing their way through the comparatively thin wood of the transom and then tearing their way along the length of the ship below decks, killing men and sending up swathes of splinters.
He realized the Achille had not fired, even though the aftermost guns would bear. Had that first raking broadside driven the men from the guns, or even overturned the guns as they rested on their carriages?
Finally the last of the Dido's broadside guns and Orsini's carronades on the poop had fired and Ramage repeated his order to the first lieutenant: 'We'll wear, if you please, Mr Aitken.'
Again there was a thunderous slapping of the topsails as the Dido wore round, and Ramage knew the guns' crews would be frantically reloading, ready for the next run across the Achille's stern. But, below decks, crouching in the half darkness, they would not know what was going on. The gun captains would see the target flashing past the gunports and would pull the trigger-line, but the rest of the men would be too busy to see anything, unless they managed to snatch a glance in the instant before the gun fired. Then they would be like men trapped in a thick fog as the gun smoke drifted back in through the port, half blinding them and setting them coughing. They would swab out and load the guns by instinct rather than being able to see what they were doing, and no sooner had they got their gun reloaded than it would be time to dash across the deck to the guns on the other side.
Ramage watched the Achille again as the Dido stretched across towards her. This time there were spurts of smoke as the guns on her quarter opened fire, and Ramage felt rather than heard the thud of some of her shots hitting the Dido. It gave one a particularly helpless feeling to sail along being shot at without being able to reply, but the Dido was now sailing fast enough that only a lucky shot from the French ship would do much damage.
Ramage was just considering that when a shot tore past him and again thudded into the mizenmast.
'Our mizen seems to be the favourite target,' Southwick commented, but as if to contradict him another shot ripped along the inside of the bulwark on the starboard side, spraying out a shower of splinters which cut down a seaman who was standing just forward of the quarterdeck.
Once again the range was down to a few yards and once again Ramage lifted his telescope to watch the French ship's transom. Yes, it looked battered, but even as he noted that the first of the Dido's broadside guns opened fire, smoke spurting out and the carriages rumbling back in recoil. There were several puffs of dust, showing where shot had smashed their way through the planking, and Ramage could see several rust-ringed holes where shot had penetrated. Then, as more guns fired, another section of the transom was beaten in, and the sternlights disappeared from the captain's cabin, the frames and windows completely smashed by roundshot.
Then the Dido had shot past and Aitken was bellowing orders for the ship to tack, with the cliffs looming up ahead, as if inviting the ship to run aground. Once the sails were trimmed and the yards braced round, Ramage watched as the ship sailed back along her own wake, and the starboard broadside was fired, gun by gun, each shot smashing into the Achille's transom.
'I don't know how much more of this she can take,' Aitken said. 'It must be like a butcher's shop down below there.'
'She's had enough,' Ramage said, pointing to the Tricolour, which was now being hauled down. 'I wonder how many ships have surrendered while being aground on their own soil!'
'What do we do now?' asked Southwick. 'We can hardly take possession of her.'
'No, we just stop firing,' Ramage said. 'She's in a terrible position, hard aground and being smashed by our guns. The only thing she can do to stop her crew being slaughtered is surrender. In fact her captain knows we can hardly take possession of her and he must be worrying about whether we'll take any notice of the fact he's surrendered. I wouldn't like to be him.'
'Well, he's a lucky fellow, because not everyone could resist the temptation to take a few more passes across his stern and reduce him to a complete wreck.'
'We haven't done too badly as it is,' Aitken commented. 'The captain's cabin and the wardroom must be completely wrecked, and no doubt the rudder and tiller have been smashed. It'll take months to repair her - that's if they ever get her to float again, which I doubt.'
'We'll wear round, Mr Aitken,' Ramage said. 'Tell the gunners we won't be firing again.'
'And we never got round to boarding her,' Southwick said regretfully, patting his sword. 'Well, now we have to find that damned convoy.'
CHAPTER NINETEEN
With the Dido hove-to close to leeward of the Achille, Ramage was able to examine her closely through the glass and decide that she was securely wedged on the ledge of rocks running from the foot of the cliffs of Pointe des Nègres, and he was certain that the French did not have the means to get her off.
He thought about his orders. His main concern was to prevent the convoy getting into Fort Royal, and if he spent too much time on theAchille - setting fire to her after getting the crew off - he risked missing that quarry. Far better, he decided, to deal with the convoy and return to destroy the Achille in a few days' time. Certainly she would not be going anywhere . . .
He gave orders for the Dido to let fall the courses and topgallants and then turn southwards for Cabrit Island, passing Cap Salomon and Diamond Rock. The wind was brisk enough to let the ship make six knots over the north-going current, but it was noon before they were off Cap Salomon.
As the land slipped by to the eastward Ramage felt cheerful. It was a bright sunny day, with the sun almost overhead and the big awning stretched above the quarterdeck, providing some welcome shade. The flying fish were darting out of the sea on either side of the Dido, and the occasional tropic bird flew overhead with its urgent wing beats. There was very little sea in the lee of the land and the Dido was hardly rolling. The sea was startlingly blue close in with the coast, shading into a bluish purple further out, where the water was deeper. Close along the shore it was a very light green where it broke on sandy beaches shaded by palm trees. Occasionally Ramage could see tiny villages, a dozen huts or so, nestling among the trees.
It was not only the scenery that made Ramage feel cheerful. He was pleased because two of the French ships of war that had been in Fort Royal, waiting for the convoy, had been accounted for. The Alerte frigate was in Barbados, by now probably bought into the King's service, and the Achille was hard aground on Pointe des Nègres, helpless as far as the convoy was concerned. Which left?
Well, two or three frigates escorting the convoy. There would be the one that had sneaked into Fort Royal that night and got out again without the Scourge or the Dido seeing her, and probably two more making up the escort. Three frigates to deal with before seizing the merchantmen. Unless . . . unless the French had sent a ship of the line along as well, knowing that the British were blockading Martinique (though unaware that for much of the time it was with a tiny brig).