He arrived on the quarterdeck to find Southwick lying on his back, holding the telescope to his eye.
'Almost broke my neck trying to see what's happening up there, sir,' he explained as Ramage stared down at him. 'Much more comfortable lying down like this. Aitken has trouble. They've tied a heavy rock round the block and lashed both to a strop which should slide down the jackstay clear of the cliff, but 1 think the block keeps twisting. They shouted to us to haul it back again . . . Hmm, bless my soul!' he exclaimed. 'Why, they're signalling to start it off again.' He jumped up to make sure Lacey was paying out the rope, looked aloft and said: 'Now there's a man sitting in the strop overhauling themrope as he comes down!'
Ramage snatched a telescope from the binnacle drawer and stretched out on the deck. There was indeed someone in the strop, sitting like a child on a swing, and pulling down on one part of the rope to make it run through the sheaves more easily and help the rock work better, like the weight of a grandfather clock. It was a small person, that much was clear, and wearing white trousers and a short jacket. He raised himself onyone elbow and asked Southwick as casually as he could: 'Did Orsini go with Aitken?'
'Yes, sir,' the Master said, 'in fact I think that's him sitting up there.'
If the boy slipped out of the strop he would fall 500 feet. Why did Aitken let him do it? There was little doubt that Paolo had volunteered - indeed, he might well have suggested the whole thing in the first place - but why the devil did Aitken let him? A moment later he told himself coldly that someone had to do it; no officer should ask a seamen to do something he would not risk himself, and Paolo was a midshipman. Aitken had acted perfectly correctly. He would have asked for volunteers, and quite properly chosen the midshipman in preference to one of the seamen; it was a good lesson to young potential leaders. He could only hope that Paolo's letters to his aunt were not too explicit - he could imagine Gianna's reaction to Paolo's description of coming down the side of a 500-foot cliff sitting in a strop.
It took half an hour for the boy to get down to the ship's deck, and Ramage was relieved to see that he was in fact lashed into the strop. Eager seamen undid the lashing and as they waited for him to jump down the last couple of feet to the deck the boy lurched and pitched forward.
As the men hurried to pick him up, Ramage saw from the quarterdeck that the boy's body was held rigid, his buttock and thigh muscles cramped by sitting on the thin rope of the strop. Bowen ran forward and began massaging the muscles of his thighs and Ramage decided to wait for Paolo to report to him. He had been scrupulous so far in avoiding favouritism and all that mattered was that the boy was safely on the Juno's deck, even if he had a sore backside.
Five minutes later Paolo reported to him on the quarterdeck. He could still not stand upright but his eyes were sparkling. 'Mr Aitken's compliments, sir, and everything is ready at the top of the cliff.'
'It took you long enough to get down to tell me,' Ramage said gruffly, recalling Gianna's injunction that he was 'not to spoil the boy'.
'I know, sir,' Paolo said apologetically, 'but the rope made my hands rather sore.'
'Show me,' Ramage said, and the boy held his hands out, palms uppermost. They were raw. 'Yes, they are a little chafed: ask Mr Bowen to put some ointment on them.'
'He's going to, sir, but I wanted to report to you first.'
Ramage nodded gravely, feeling proud of the boy and noticing the approval of Southwick, who was standing nearby. 'Now, has Mr Aitken found a clear way to parbuckle the guns up the last section of the top of the Rock?'
'Yes, sir, it's steep but we've cleared away the small rocks, and there's a flat area at the top for the guns. We've cleared that, too. Mr Aitken says it is a perfect site for the battery. It could take ten guns, sir!'
'Very well, now run along and get those hands dressed.'
The jackstay was sagging badly, and hoisting the gun might increase the sag so much that the gun would swing in too close to the cliff for safety. Ramage had anticipated that this would happen, and the time had now come to tighten the cable.
He turned to Southwick, who was obviously still absorbed with the details of Orsini's report. 'The stun'sail booms are ready?'
'Aye, aye, sir, and I've doubled up on the topping lifts and guys, as you suggested.'
'Very well, let's start heaving in the jackstay.'
Southwick called for men as the two of them walked to the capstan. The cable forming the jackstay came down from the clifftop and led through a block shackled to the deck on the larboard side. From there it was led to the mainmast and made fast, but it could be tightened by clapping a purchase on it and leading the fall to the capstan, making it fast to the mast again when it was tight enough.
It took ten minutes to prepare everything and as soon as Southwick passed the order the fiddler began a tune and the men heaved at the capstan bars. Slowly the sagging jackstay tautened, the men slowing down with the effort as the strain came on the anchor cables.
Ramage walked to the bulwark and watched the cliff face, which was gradually getting nearer. Foot by foot the jackstay pulled the Juno bodily towards the cliff as it tautened until the outboard end of the stun'sail boom of the mainmast was almost touching the rock. He looked upwards at the jackstay soaring aloft in a gentle curve, with the gun tackle sagging beneath it. He pictured the jackstay with the weight of the gun running up it, suspended from the voyol block. That weight would pull the Juno a little closer to the cliff. Just enough to bring the booms against the Rock,
‘’Vast heaving,' he called, 'and pall the capstan. Mr Lacey, secure to the mast now. Mr Southwick, let's have the voyol block clapped on to the jackstay and secure the slings of the gun!'
He was hard put to keep the excitement out of his voice and Southwick was bustling around the decks like a jovial innkeeper seating his guests. Three men dragged the heavy voyol block and hung it on the jackstay. More men pulled across the single block of the tackle as others gathered beside its carriage, black, ominous and looking strangely naked.
Quickly the slings and the tackle were secured to the voyol block and the Master looked questioningly at Ramage as the fall of the tackle was led round the capstan again, ready for hoisting.
'Take up the strain with the tackle, Mr Southwick - and get those steadying lines led forward and aft outside the rigging.'
With lines secured to the gun, one leading right aft and the other forward, Ramage hoped to prevent the gun from swinging wildly as it was hoisted up, but the immediate task was to get the gun on the first few feet of its journey without smashing the bulwark or catching in the rigging.
With a sweeping gesture of his arm the Master started the men tramping round, pressing on the capstan bars. The strain came on the fall of the tackle, travelling all the way up the cliff and back to the Juno. The slings tautened and jerked once or twice, the voyol block settling on the jackstay as the gun, weighing nearly a ton, started on the first few inches of its five-hundred-foot journey to the top.
The gun lifted and seemed reluctant to come clear of the deck. Then it was as high as the bulwark and still rising as the capstan hauled at the fall of the tackle. Ramage saw that the great weight was making the jackstay sag, but not enough to be a disadvantage: if anything the voyol block would sit better.