Ramage

Without waiting for a reply he called over his lieutenants, master and Marine lieutenant, and introduced them.

 ‘By the way,' Laidman said. 'If you can get your galley fire lit, none of us have eaten for some time....'

'Of course, sir, I'll see to it'

 Ramage called to Jackson, 'Tell my steward to arrange some food for the officers.'

 He looked round for the Bosun's Mate. 'Evans - tell the cook he can have as many hands as he wants from the Kathleens and the Belettes, but I want both ships' companies to have a meal within an hour.’'

 Then he walked over to Southwick, who simply held out his hand. Ramage shook it.

 'Thanks. I'm just going below to have a word with the wounded. The galley fire's being lit. In the meantime, every man on board is to have a tot, but serve two to John Smith the Second!'

Chapter 21

Ramage could see the tall spire of Sainte Marie Church sticking up from the centre of the citadel of Bastia, and several seventy-fours were at anchor off the town, among them the Diadem, still flying Commodore Nelson's broad pendant.

 The great bulk of Mount Pigno was sharply outlined in the setting sun, but the peak was almost completely hidden by balles de coton, the stationary clouds which always appeared with the Libeccio. He watched the surface of the sea between the Kathleen and the shore for the sudden dark pewtering which was the only warning he'd get that one of Bastia's notorious squalls had rolled down the mountainside and was roaring out to sea.

 Since he had nearly three times the normal complement of seamen on board, Ramage was determined that no one in the whole squadron would be able to fault the way the Kathleen anchored.

 For the last half an hour, Southwick and Evans had been selecting various men from the Belette's former crew and  allotting them stations for sail handling and anchoring. All the men had eaten a good meal, sunk their tot of rum, and cleaned up the ship after the action.

 Half an hour earlier the last of the three badly wounded men had died, and Ramage had conducted the first funeral service of his career. Although he had attended dozens without much emotion, he was surprised to find how moving were the sonorous words of the service when one spoke them oneself.

 Jackson was watching the Diadem in case she should make a signal and Captain Laidman was walking the deck, making little attempt to hide the fact that he was a worried man: in a few minutes' time he would be accounting to the Commodore for the loss of the Belette.

 Oh, to hell with it: so far Ramage had deliberately not looked at the terrace of the Viceroy's residence with his telescope, then decided it was an unnecessary act of self-denial. But no one stood there: he could see the big glass doors were shut, the terrace was bare of the usual tables and chairs. Nor was the Elliot children's boat moored at the bottom of the garden. The whole place seemed deserted.

 The Diadem was not more than half a mile away and lying head to wind athwart the Kathleen's course as she sailed in parallel to the coast. If they were going to be ordered to a special berth, a signal should have been made by now.

 Ramage decided to pass under the Diadem's stern, luff up and anchor farther inshore, to windward of the Commodore's ship - which apart from anything else, would mean that the boat taking him and Captain Laidman to the Diadem would be rowed with the wind aft and they would appear reasonably smart, instead of dripping with spray.

 Laidman looked so miserable that Ramage felt cheered. He wondered how often such a small ship as the Kathleen had arrived in an anchorage carrying one commanding officer to have his trial resumed, and another to have his trial ordered.

 Well, despite Laidman's remarks, Ramage knew he had bungled the rescue: men had been killed unnecessarily, and Commodore Nelson wasn't the man to overlook that. The trouble is, Ramage thought ruefully, the whole blasted operation looked so simple on paper. It was good of Captain Laidman to say he would give him full credit in his report, but Laidman was already discredited. For this trip, he told himself bitterly, the Kathleen is carrying a couple of failures ... Apart from all that, Ramage had grave doubts about the wisdom of leaving the Belette without setting fire to her. He'd suggested it to Laidman as soon as he stepped on board the Kathleen, but the frigate's captain had shaken his head, muttering something about salvaging her. Knowing the Commodore - according to Probus, anyway — was aware of the extent of the damage, he'd pressed the point; but Laidman had made no reply.

'Sir...'

 It was Southwick, an anxious note in his voice: Christ, and no wonder: the Diadem was only a hundred yards away, fine on the starboard bow, and he'd been day-dreaming. Every spare telescope in the squadron was probably trained on him. Well, let 'em look: he and Laidman would probably be sent home in the same ship and they could have another look.

'Stand by to harden in the sheets, Mr Southwick. ...'

The Diadem's stern was flashing past.

 'Aft those sheets, Mr Southwick! Quartermaster - bring her to the wind.'

 The Kathleen turned under the Diadem's great counter and headed inshore, spray once again flying over the weather bow as she beat to windward.

 'Mr Southwick - haul taut the topping lifts; stand by all sheets and see the halyards clear for running.'

 Ramage had deliberately not looked up at the Diadem as they passed and Jackson, noticing this, said in a quiet voice, 'The Commodore's watching, sir, and some civilians.'

'Very good, Jackson.'

 Well, let's, hope the Commodore's noticed the Kathleen's lost her topmast and that there are only two guns on the larboard side. Ramage had left all five carronades on the starboard side: the extra weight up to windward helped the ship along.

'Are you ready, Mr Southwick ?'

'Aye aye, sir.'

'Quartermaster, bring her round head to wind!'

 Let's hope the bloody man doesn't shove the tiller over too far and put the ship about on the other tack. No, he was judging it welclass="underline" the belly in the headsails and main was flattening: the leeches of the jib and foresail began quivering. Instinctively Ramage looked up at the vane on the topmast truck and then realized it was probably floating somewhere in the sea off the Tour Rouge.

 Now all the sails were flapping and seamen were hauling in the sheets. Ramage made a sudden downward movement with his right hand - a movement the seamen at the halyards had been watching for.

 As if all three were one piece of canvas, the jib, foresail and mainsail began to slide down.

 As the jib and foresail reached the bottom of their stays seamen leapt on them to stifle the flogging canvas and secure them with gaskets. Now the great mainsail was down with the gaff on top, and more men were swarming along the boom, folding in the canvas and passing gaskets.

 But half a dozen men in the bow were still watching Ramage. He was waiting for Jackson, who had moved over to the bulwark on the starboard side.

'About a knot, sir....'

 Ramage lifted his left hand level with his waist, and could see the men in the bow tensing themselves.

 'She's barely got way on now, sir ... stopped ... making sternway.'

 He chopped his hand down to his side and men in the bow sprang to life. The anchor splashed into the water and the sternway avoided the risk that the cable would foul it. A few moments later Ramage could detect a faint smell of burning being brought aft on the wind as the friction scorched the cable.