The creaking of many oars in their rowlocks—the tow had started. Occasional shouts from forward, replies from aft. Someone in the bow was conning the ship, shouting directions to the men at the helm.
Claire in St George, Gianna in London—or perhaps staying with his parents in Cornwall. The Governor would get his letter in a few hours. Southwick would be conning the Triton up towards the coast now—Ramage pictured him standing on the fo'c'sle, night-glass to his eye, scanning the black sprawl of the coastline, hoping for the sight of a sail, his brain automatically correcting for the fact a night-glass gave an inverted image so the sea and coastline, upside down, would look like the sky with black clouds low on the horizon.
Two privateers—probably fifty men in each. And how many more at their base, into which the Jorum, the Trojan sea horse, was now being towed? Probably not more than twenty. More important though was how many privateers-men were on board the Jorum at the moment, and if Gorton and his crew had been taken off?
More shouting and slowly the Jorum lost way and came to a stop, now neither pitching nor rolling; she was motionless, obviously lying in some quiet bay.
Would the privateersmen start unloading the cargo immediately or wait until daybreak?
'For wot we's about to receive...' whispered one of the men.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The thud of a mallet slamming on wood just above them, a muttered oath and a second thud, followed by the sound of the wedge falling to the deck, warned the Tritons that in a minute or two they'd be fighting for their lives. Another couple of thuds farther along and another wedge fell out. As the third was knock out Ramage knew that completed the starboard side. The two on the fore side were then driven, followed by three on the larboard side and, with every one of the Tritons tensing, the first, then the second on the after side.
'They're using a lantern,' Jackson whispered.
'Must be,' Ramage said humorously, '—only one bout of cursing.'
'Means we'll have the advantage—our eyes accustomed to the darkness.'
For a moment Ramage weighed the advantages of kicking over the lantern as soon as they leapt out, then decided that the surprise and confusion outweighed it.
A rasping as the four battens round the hatch were slid out, then the heavy canvas tarpaulin was dragged off.
The tingling, as though his arms and legs had pins and needles;, stomach shrinking, full of cold water; arm and 'eg muscles tensing but feeling weak, as if they'd let him down when the moment came for a supreme effort. Ramage's breathing was shallow and perspiration felt cold now on his forehead.
I have to lead these men, he told himself coldly: they look to me. He bent down and flipped open the strap over the sheath of his throwing knife, then methodically picked up his pistols, checked each was at half-cock, and stuck them in the waist band of his breeches. Quietly he drew his cutlass.
'Stand by, Tritons!' he whispered hoarsely, his voice almost drowned as one of the big beams was suddenly lifted and dragged dear, exposing a long narrow slot through which he could see stars shining. The weak flame of the lantern lit the underside of furled sails and part of the rigging, so that it looked like long spiders' webs covered with hoar frost.
Another plank lifted and was dragged dear, and the sight of a man's head outlined against the sky. A second man standing astride the gap and bending down to lift an end of the next beam. And a third and a fourth man helping, lifting and hurling it clear so it fell to the deck with a crash.
Six more beams to be lifted out. Would someone pick up the lantern and peer down into the hold to see what the Jorum was carrying before the last was hoisted dear?
Ramage's question was answered by one of the men calling to someone several yards away. 'Tell Dupont and the rest of 'em we're nearly ready.'
Footsteps receding? Ramage was certain he heard the tread of someone walking along a wooden jetty. But where on earth could they be, with a jetty? Damnation! So concerned about the jetty, Ramage had wasted several seconds before realizing he must attack immediately, before 'Dupont and the rest of 'em' arrived, and promptly bellowed:
'Get'em, Tritons!'
As he grabbed the edge of the coaming and swung himself up it seemed the entire hold erupted with hundreds of men screaming 'Tritons! Tritons! Tritons!'
The four men lifting off the beams ran for the bulwark yelling wildly in fear and surprise. A pistol exploded just beside Ramage and one of the men sank slowly to the deck, as if overcome with weariness. The second hesitated a moment, standing on top of the bulwark, and another pistol fired, toppling him over. By now the third and fourth man had leapt dean over the bulwark and were running along the jetty towards the shore.
Ramage turned and ran aft, surprised to hear himself screaming 'Tritons!' and instinctively striking sideways as a sword blade gleamed momentarily in the darkness. Sensing rather than seeing there was a group of four or five men standing near the tiller, he slashed at the dark shape of his attacker with the cutlass while trying to drag a pistol from his waistband with his left hand.
A surge of Tritons overwhelmed the men by the tiller and, as Ramage realized his opponent was a better than average swordsman the man suddenly flung his cutlass at Ramage's head and leapt over the side into the water.
Within a couple of minutes there was almost complete silence on the schooner's deck and the croaking of frogs and screams of frightened birds was all Ramage could hear as he hurriedly checked his men. No one had even a scratch to report. The first two privateersmen were dead beside the bulwark; two of the five standing aft were dead, the rest dying.
'Jackson! Make the prisoners say what happened to Gorton. Evans, you ready with those signal rockets? Right, fire one and make sure it doesn't foul the rigging!'
Even before Jackson had time to start, one of the Tritons was calling that Gorton and the rest of the Jorum's crew were tied up in the cuddy, and a minute later, while Ramage peered around him, trying to make out where the schooner was and if the two privateers were near-by, Gorton came up, swinging his arms as if he was cold.
'You've got the ship back then, sir!' he exclaimed. 'Sorry about this slapping but the ropes numbed my arms. We're in Marigot, sir. They didn't make any secret of it. As soon as someone called Dupont came on board—he's their leader— we were going to have our throats cut!'
Ramage peered round, still trying to spot where the privateers were anchored, and Gorton said, 'There's one of them over there...' pointing to the east, where Ramage could just pick out the shape of a vessel dark against the mangroves growing to the water's edge. 'And the other's just beyond.'
'Find a------'
He spun round with an oath as a sudden hissing roar and a flash behind him seemed a prelude to the schooner blowing up; but a rocket snaking up into the sky to burst into five red stars told him Evans had carried out his orders.
'Gorton—keep an eye on those privateers: watch for boats pulling over towards us. Can you find your night-glass?'
'Aye aye, sir!'
'Jackson—take all the men with musketoons and half a dozen more and get out along that jetty: stop this fellow Dupont and his men!'