Ramage's Devil

Sarah put her bucket down beside the lantern as Ramage said: 'We are at the meeting point of the Penfeld and Le Goulet.'

'Stop rowing, men,' Auguste said, and then announced formally: 'Your fishing captain now hands over to your fighting captain.'

Ramage laughed with the rest of them and looked forward at the Murex brig. She was a good half mile away and it was still slack water, with the ships heading in different directions. A frog's view of models on a pond. For a few moments the familiar shape of the brig once again brought back memories of the Triton. He remembered her best at anchor in some West Indian bay during a tropical night when her masts and yards cut sharp lines in a star-littered sky. Up here in northern latitudes fewer stars were visible, for reasons he could never understand, and they were not nearly so bright, as though the atmosphere was always more hazy.

To fish or not to fish? He looked slowly round the horizon. No other boats were following them out of the Penfeld; the nearest ships to the Murex were half a dozen frigates and ships of the line at least half a mile beyond. Various boats moved under oars (and he could see one under sail making poor progress because of the light wind) taking officers and men out to the ships. None had that purposeful, marching sentry movement of a guard boat: the war, he guessed, was too new for the French to have started regular patrols in the Roads, and anyway lookouts along the coast (at Pointe St Mathieu, for instance) would most likely have reported that the English had not yet resumed the blockade; that no English ships were on the coast.

He coughed to attract their attention and as a way of accepting the transition announced by Auguste. ' I think madame can throw that bait over the side; she must be tired of the smell of fish.'

A clatter showed Sarah had not waited to hear if anyone disagreed.

'Good, now let's get our oars on board, before someone lets go and we lose a quarter of our speed. Auguste, can you issue the weapons you have hidden up there?'

The Frenchman scrambled forward, fumbled for a minute or two, and then stood up again, clutching several objects.

'Cutlasses,' he said. 'Here, Gilbert, take a couple before they slip from my arms. Ah, and one for you, captain, and one for me. I shall put mine under my thwart. Careful with your feet when you sit down again, Gilbert.'

With that he bent down and burrowed under the coils of lines again. 'Four knives...' his voice was muffled as he dropped them behind him, '.. and the pistols.'

'You have six, I believe,' Ramage said. 'We'll have one for madame.'

'Of course!' Auguste said. 'I remember Gilbert telling me she is a fine shot. I shall load it for her myself. Now...' he pulled the coil of lines to one side, '... ah, the flask of powder... and the priming powder ... and the box of balls and wads. Here, Gilbert, pass things aft, starting with the knives.'

For the next five minutes the men were busy checking the flints, flipping them to make sure they gave a good spark, but hiding them under a piece of cloth to conceal their unmistakable flashing. Then they loaded the pistols, putting them on half-cock.

Louis and the two brothers were wearing high fishermen's boots and slid their knives down into them. Ramage and Gilbert wore shoes and so had to tuck the knives into the waistband of their trousers. Ramage was thankful the cutlasses had come with belts, but decided against slipping his over his right shoulder and instead pushed it under the thwart.

'You were right about muskets being too bulky, captain,' Auguste commented. 'With knife, pistol and cutlass, I have all the weapons I can handle.'

'Yes - but everyone remember: use the pistol only to save your life: shots might arouse the sentries in another ship, or alarm a passing boat.'

'Is madame content with her pistol?' Auguste inquired.

Sarah said: 'Yes, it is much like the English Sea Service pistoclass="underline" clumsy and heavy!'

'Yes, but remember how roughly the sailors treat them,' Auguste said, beating Ramage to it, 'and when you've fired, you can always throw it at the next target.'

By now, Ramage was having second thoughts about his original plan. If a sentry challenged, they could probably gain several important seconds by innocently protesting that they were fishermen; seconds which could be converted into yards, and a closer approach.

'Auguste, what would you be using out here - a seine or long lines?'

Auguste thought for a few moments. 'Long lines, I think.'

He guessed what Ramage had in mind and added: 'One could use either, and I doubt if a sentry would know anyway! And it won't matter that we have no bait!'

Although they were not rowing, and there was very little wind, the Château was slowly drawing astern and the western bank where the Penfeld ran into Le Goulet was now closer, showing the direction the boat was drifting.

'The ebb has started,' Ramage said. 'The rest of us can start rowing again while Auguste puts over some lines.' He moved into the fisherman's seat.

Sarah took the tiller and gave occasional directions to the four oarsmen as Auguste struggled with the lines. 'Hold up the lantern, madame,' he said finally, 'otherwise I shall be the only fish these lines catch.'

'You need only two or three,' Ramage said. 'No one will notice.'

'That's true,' Auguste said and put over one and then another, feeding out the lines expertly. 'Shall I sit aft and pretend to watch?'

'As long as you have your cutlass and knife ready under the thwart,' Ramage said. 'In fact you can take over as coxswain from madame, and start by giving me a distance.'

Sarah quickly pointed out the Murex to the Frenchman, who exclaimed: 'Why, we are close! Much closer than I thought!'

'That's the ebb taking us down. ' Ramage then glanced over his shoulder and was also startled to find the brig now only about five hundred yards away: already her masts and yards were standing stark against the stars like winter trees with geometrically precise branches. 'Auguste, we'll row past at about a pistol shot and then, if nothing happens, turn under her bow and even closer under her stern and then if we still see no one, board this side.'

Sarah suddenly murmured in English: 'Nicholas, I am frightened. The Murex looks more like a house full of ghosts.'

'I'd prefer ghosts to French matelots,' he said lightly, while Gilbert, who had understood, gave a reassuring laugh.

'How are you going to get on board?' she asked reverting to French. She undid the knot of scarf round her head, took it off and shook her hair free.

'I don't know at the moment,' Ramage said, his sentences punctuated as he leaned forward and then stretched back with each oar stroke. 'There might be a ladder hanging over the side, or a rope. Otherwise, it'll probably be a scramble up the side.'

Sarah was silent for a moment and then said quietly in English: 'There's a light on deck. A lantern, I think. It gets hidden as rigging and things get in the way.'

'Speak in French,' Ramage said, trying to hide his disappointment. 'We don't want our friends to think we have any secrets.' He turned away towards them and repeated Sarah's report.

'A warm night, so they're drinking on deck,' Auguste commented. 'It would be natural. That cabin we saw - the "gunroom" I think you called it, captain - was very small. It would get very hot down there.'

Ramage saw his ideas being thrown aside like men caught on deck by a blast of grapeshot. Five Frenchmen up on the Murex's deck drinking with weapons to hand, and two more guarding the prisoners below, would be more than a match for the five of them down in the rowing boat: the matelots would have the advantage of height, as well as numbers. But despair, fear, alarm - all were contagious, so Ramage laughed. 'It'll soon be hot on deck for them too!'

They continued rowing in the darkness at the speed set by Auguste, with an occasional 'left' and 'right'. Auguste said he was not using the seamen's terms because not all of them understood them and anyway, facing aft, they would only get muddled.