Ramage

Blast, he was going to overshoot. What's that popping noise? Muskets! Andhe could hear yelling on board the frigate.

'Starboard a point! Aft the main sheet!1

He'd overshoot by thirty yards at least, probably more.

No, maybe only twenty yards - less if the grapnels held.

 The backed jib trying to shove the bow to leeward was fighting its own battle with the mainsail trying to thrust the bow to windward; but, more important, the resulting stalemate was slowing down the cutter better than he'd expected and closing the gap.

 A few yards to go now and they'd pass ten feet off; already the Kathleen's bowsprit end was passing the frigate's stern.

'Quartermaster, hard down with the helm.'

 Once the rudder was over more than about thirty degrees it acted as a brake. Now—

‘Let fly jib and main sheets, Mr Southwick!'

 Southwick bawled out orders. The jib flapped and the great main boom swung off to larboard, the sail slatting with the wind blowing down both sides and exerting no pressure.

Ramage realized Southwick was shouting, 'Neat, oh very neat, by Christ!'

Snatching up the speaking trumpet, Ramage yelled, 'Get those grapnels over!’'

 He watched John Smith the Second poised on the bowsprit, the grapnel swinging from his right hand, body slack, apparently nonchalant; but then he stiffened, swung his body round and his right arm back. Suddenly the arm and shoulder shot forward and the grapnel soared up, the line momentarily forming a bow in the air. The grapnel disappeared over the frigate's bulwarks and Smith let go of the line, leaving men in the bow to haul in the slack. The Kathleen had stopped so close it had been an easy throw; but Smith was in credit to the extent of two tots.

 One after another the remaining grapnels soared up and disappeared over the Belette's bulwarks. Hurriedly the seamen hauled and a moment later the Kathleen thudded alongside the frigate.

'Away boarders!' Ramage bellowed into the speaking trumpet and saw Jackson leap from the cutter's bulwarks in through one of the Belette's gun ports with more men following him.

On a sudden impulse Ramage flung down the speaking trumpet, dragged the pistols from the waistband of his breeches, and jumped on to the aftermost carronade, intending to follow Jackson, but at that moment several men appeared along the bulwarks of the frigate's poop, high overhead.

 Ramage, off balance, knew he could not raise his pistols in time and waited for a volley of musket shots. Instead he heard cheers - British cheers.

He scrambled down from the carronade, feeling sheepish. He put down the pistols, retrieved the speaking trumpet, and shouted:

'Come on, you Belettes, get on board, fast!'

 Someone was shouting down at him with an authoritative voice and he saw a hatless officer with an epaulet on each shoulder standing at a gun port: a captain of more than three years' seniority.

 Amid the din of flapping sails, musketry and shouting, it was difficult to hear, so Ramage jumped back on the carronade. The captain shouted: 'Give us five minutes - we want to finish off these Frogs.'

'Aye aye, sir,'

Thank Christ for that, thought Ramage, the Belettes have the upper hand. But—

‘What about the French on the cliff, sir?'

 'Don't worry - we can stop 'em coming down the masts: that's all that matters!'

 Even as he spoke there was a popping of muskets from the other side of the ship and Ramage saw that French soldiers had appeared along the edge of the cliff, but they dodged back almost at once.

 Captain Laidman of the Belette was as good as his word: in less than four minutes seamen — among them Jackson and his party - were climbing down her side on to the Kathleen's decks and Laidman shouted from the poop:

'Everyone's off except the Marines: are you ready to get under way?'

'Ready when you are, sir.'

'Right'

 Laidman disappeared from the port and a minute later redcoated Marines, still clutching their muskets, began scrambling down the frigate's side. As soon as they reached the Kathleen's decks, and before Ramage had time to give them any orders, their lieutenant had them lining the cutter's bulwarks, loading their muskets and ready to fire. In the meantime the rest of the Belettes had been bundled below, out of the way.

 Jackson, who had been waiting an opportunity to report, said:

'All breechings cut on both sides, sir.'

'That was quick work.'

 'Some of the Belettes gave a hand, sir, but I checked every gun myself.'

'Very well, stand by here.'

Finally Captain Laidman appeared again at a gun port and climbed down to the Kathleen.

‘Welcome on board, sir.'

‘Thank you, m'lad: sorry there were uninvited guests on board the Belette when you first arrived.'

 Ramage laughed. 'At least you announced them! But if you'll excuse me, sir—'

 Captain Laidman nodded, and Ramage looked round for the Master.

'Mr Southwick - sheet the jib aback and hoist the foresail.'

 As she lay alongside the frigate, the Kathleen's bowsprit pointed at an angle towards the cliffs on which the Belette's bow rested, and Ramage saw the only way to sail out was to let the wind swing the cutter's bow round while her stern was held against the frigate. That would take her clear of the rocks at the foot of the next headland.

 'Evans,' he called to the Bosun's Mate, 'cut away the for'ard four lines, but hold on to the aftermost two. Pay out and snub if need be, but keep our stern in. Quartermaster, put the helm down.'

 By now the jib had been sheeted in aback so that the canvas was as flat as a board. The wind began to push the cutter's bow round to seaward, but her long, narrow keel diverted some  of the effort into a fore-and-aft movement so the Kathleen began to move astern.

 Ramage glanced aft: the frigate's stern gallery, looking very battered from the Kathleen's earlier assault, was drawing level with the cutter's transom. Evans was directing seamen and alternately paying out the grapnel lines to allow for the movement astern, and then snubbing them, to keep the cutter's stern against the frigate and help lever the bow round.

 Ramage watched until the Kathleen's stem was well clear of the outlying rocks ahead. The foresail had by now been hoisted and, like the jib, sheeted aback.

 'Mr Southwick, I'll have jib and foresail sheeted home, if you please.'

 As soon as they started drawing, the Kathleen's sternway would be checked and she would start moving ahead but, without the mainsail drawing, would still pay off to leeward.

'Quartermaster, tiller amidships.'

 A sudden crackling of muskets made him glance up at the cliff: a group of French soldiers were kneeling, muskets at their shoulders. Almost at once the Marines along the Kathleen's bulwarks fired back and the French promptly ducked.

The Kathleen heeled slightly as the wind filled the headsails, and gradually started gathering headway.

'Evans, cut away those lines! Quartermaster, meet her! Mr Southwick, aft the mainsheet!'

Ten minutes later the Kathleen was broad-reaching along the coast heading for Bastia, and Ramage handed over the conn to Southwick while he went over to Captain Laidman who had, he realized, been tactfully keeping himself to the lee side of the quarter-deck.

'My apologies for not giving you a proper welcome, sir: I am Ramage.'

 'Laidman,' he answered gruffly. "Damn' fine piece of seamanship, m'boy: y' can rely on me to make that clear in m' report. Now, meet m' officers. They're at your disposal. Use what men you like: you're pretty short-handed, aren't you?'