'Even rigging should burn well,' Orsini said. 'After all, it's coated in tar, so it won't have soaked up much salt. If you set fire to a few shrouds the flames should run up the masts and set fire to the courses.'
'What we need is a thunderstorm so that lightning strikes her,' Martin grumbled. 'That'd save us a lot of bother.'
It was after midnight when Ramage gave the order to start and led the way down to the boats, boarding the launch and settling himself down in the sternsheets, telling Jackson: 'Shove off. And no talking. You know where to make for, and make sure you don't get in the field of fire of those guns - just in case they spot us.'
'Aye aye, sir,' Jackson said. 'We'll be like ghosts.'
Ramage sat alone with his thoughts. He was still not sure that he was doing the right thing. For the task of destroying the Achille he had two choices: he could bring the Dido in and, as he had done when he attacked her in the first place, sail back and forth across her stern, raking her. That would take hours - destroying a ship by gunfire alone could be very difficult. Silencing her was one thing; destroying her was something quite different. Which left him with boarding her and setting her on fire. That was certain but was far riskier. As far as the Achille was concerned, it was riskier because he had no idea how many Frenchmen had been landed, and therefore how many were left on board. When the Dido had arrived and anchored, the Achille was landing men on the beach. Were they abandoning the ship? Were they the first fifty or were they the last? There was no way of knowing. So they were boarding her not knowing whether there were five hundred men on board or twenty.
That was why he had emphasized to his officers that all they were concerned with was getting on board the ship, setting a few fires, and then getting off as quickly as possible: they were not trying to capture the Frenchman; this was not a regular boarding - as when they had taken the Alerte. They were, he thought wryly, concerned only with arson.
He could make out the black shape of the Achille - she seemed enormous in the darkness. To anyone who loved ships for themselves, it was a sad thought that this handsome ship - for she had a pleasing sheer - was not only wedged on the rocks, but if all went well within half an hour would be only so much charred wreckage floating on the sea. Two thousand large trees, each piece carefully shaped by skilled men, had been used to build her ... his imagination roamed, helped by the darkness.
The men were rowing easily and silently: Aitken had done a good job of making sure that each oar was bound with keckling to stop it squeaking against the thole pins. The men were being careful to dip their oars deeply so they did not 'catch a crab' and make a splash.
He looked astern and could just make out the other boats following in the launch's wake. In a few minutes three of the boats would turn to starboard to make their way to the Achille's stern, still keeping out of the field of fire. What sort of lookout were they keeping in the French ship? For the moment they would not be able to see very far because of the darkness, but would they spot the boats in the starlight during those last few yards?
Ramage decided they would not be keeping a special lookout because they would not expect the Dido to board them: they knew that the English realized they were stuck on the rocks, and helpless. They might expect a further attack in daylight, with the Dido raking her and doing more damage by gunfire. Indeed, that might have been the reason for them landing men - to save casualties.
Casualties! The word made him shiver. If the French had not landed many men, then he was likely to suffer a lot of casualties tonight. He did not doubt that his own men would be able to start a few fires, but at what cost?
Some captains, he knew, could send their men off on operations where the number of casualties would be enormous, and the fact did not make them lose any sleep. But he was not one of these captains. He did not know whether to call them lucky or not - in war men did get killed or maimed. But the fact was that he shied away from operations where the casualties would be heavy. He had shied away from this one until he persuaded himself that if he did not destroy the Achille now, the admiral would send him back to do it.
So now he was setting off with more than 150 seamen and Marines not knowing whether there were five hundred or fifty Frenchmen on board the Achille. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed the most absurdly risky operation he had ever undertaken: it was, literally and figuratively, a leap into the dark.
He stared ahead and could just make out the black shape of the Achille outlined against the stars. Judging from the height of the masts they were closer than he had realized. He glanced astern and saw that the last three boats had already left to make for the French ship's stern. There was just the faint hiss as the launch's bow cut through the water and the muffled gasping as the men strained at the oars. The launch, carrying thirty men plus the oarsmen, was a heavy boat to row.
Yes, it was a hot and humid night: already he could feel the perspiration soaking through his clothes. But he was thankful there was little wind. Wind meant waves and waves meant a slop at the bow which could be spotted by the French lookouts. Thank goodness there was almost no phosphorescence tonight. It was extraordinary how one night it would be bright and another night there would be almost none at all. One thing was certain - had there been much of it then it would give away the positions of all six boats, warning the French long before they could actually see the outline of the raiders.
Forty yards, perhaps less. Jackson had brought the launch round - with the two pinnaces following - in a half-circle, so that he stayed out of the arcs of fire of the Achille's guns and approached from dead ahead, the direction it would be hard for the French lookouts to see, because of the network of rigging supporting the jibboom and bowsprit.
Ramage loosened the two pistols stuck in his belt: they were digging into his ribs, and they would jab him when he climbed. He hitched at his sword, making sure it was free in the sheath, ready to be drawn instantly. He was, he realized ruefully, behaving just like a nervous man, but damnation, he was nervous: not at the thought of boarding the Frenchman, but at what they might find. Fifty or five hundred - they were not the sort of odds to attract a gambler . . .
Thirty yards - no more. Jackson was hissing an order at the nearest oarsmen and they were passing it forward, from man to man. The rate of rowing slowed. The Achille was huge now, looming over them - and there was no challenge. No shooting from aft, either, so that the other boarding party had not arrived yet. He had thought of trying to synchronize the two attacks, but finally decided against it: the trouble involved increased the risk that they would be discovered if one or other party had to wait in the darkness.
Twenty yards - and Jackson was beginning to put the tiller over and hissing another order to the oarsmen nearest him. The Achille was now like the side of a huge cliff; her rigging was outlined against the star-filled sky like a fishnet, and the masts stood up like enormous trees, reaching up into the blackness.
Ten yards, and the men on the starboard side tossed their oars. Ramage poised himself, ready to leap upwards at whatever projection would give him a foothold. Still no challenge and, mercifully, still no shooting from astern. In the few seconds before the launch came alongside the French ship he thought how extraordinary it was that she was keeping such a poor lookout.
Then he smelled the stench of rotting seaweed and realized that it had been growing beneath the waterline but had been exposed when the bow had lifted as the ship had run on to the reef. He noticed that the French had not let go an anchor - an indication of how firmly she was wedged. Probably firmly enough to make this boarding quite unnecessary, but one could not be sure.