Black leather fire buckets with 'Juno' painted on them were also being topped up with water at the head pump and put back on their hooks under the quarterdeck rail, where they would swing with the roll of the ship and not spill. The fire engine would be hauled out and its cistern filled with water. In the ward-room Bowen was preparing his instruments and his assistant was winding bandages. The ward-room table had been scrubbed and lines put ready to hold writhing men. Beside it was an empty tub, the receptacle for 'wings and limbs' in case amputations were necessary.
Normally when the Juno went into action her Captain and Master were on the quarterdeck, with the four lieutenants at the guns, each commanding a division. Now Ramage was relying entirely on the gun captains, who were trained seamen but nevertheless accustomed to having an officer behind them bellowing orders through the thick smoke and noise of battle. He had assembled all the gun captains and second captains earlier and told them to use their common sense. The moment they heard Ramage tell them to open fire, they were to continue as long as their guns would bear, but they must fire steadily, with every shot well aimed.
La Créole was still in sight running west for two or three miles from Diamond Hill and then beating back, always in sight of the Juno and of the French, her Tricolour flying. Behaving, in fact, just as the French officers in the convoy would expect a privateer to behave. She was fast enough to ignore the current; her great fore and aft sails drove her through the water as though she were a skimming dish.
Less than half an hour after giving the series of orders to Southwick Ramage walked round the ship, listening always for a hail from the masthead or quarterdeck warning of another signal from La Créole, talking with the men and inspecting the positions. There had been enough grommets for twenty extra rounds to be stored beside each gun, in addition to those always kept in the shot garlands along the bulwarks and round the coamings.
He peered into the cistern of the fire engine, examined the stands of muskets, sent for the carpenter and listened to his report that shot plugs, boards and tools were ready, heard from a bosun's mate that the tiller tackles were in position, ready to be rigged if the wheel was shot away, and preventer stays prepared in case masts were damaged.
Satisfied that the ship was ready for action, he had an encouraging word with each of the gun captains and went down to his cabin to collect his pistols and sword. Back on the quarterdeck a look through the telescope showed that the Surcouf’s, guns were run out, her boats in the water astern, and Aitken walking up and down the quarterdeck with enviable nonchalance. Obviously he was satisfied that his ship was ready and, like Ramage, impatient for the final signal from La Créole.
The Surcouf had fine lines; the French certainly designed handsome ships. The sheer had a graceful sweep and the bow a pleasing flare. Any captain would be pleased with her appearance, and Ramage knew that few admirals would find fault with her. Yet in three hours she might be reduced to a shattered hulk, lying dead in the water with her masts hanging over the side in a tangle of rigging, her hull and decks torn up by roundshot.
He shivered despite the heat. The Juno could be close to her in the same condition with not a dozen men alive in both ships to raise a cheer or cry for quarter. In considering the number of ships, the odds were only two to one in favour of the French, but in numbers of men (and that was what counted in the end) the odds were about nine to one because there would be about 1200 Frenchmen in their four frigates.
Nine to one. It was the first time he had reduced his gamble to actual figures, and it frightened him. Two frigates against four seemed acceptable, but one of his men against nine Frenchmen was monstrous. What right had he to take his handful of men into battle against such odds? They all trusted him, from Southwick and Aitken to the cook's mate and the youngest powder monkey: the sight of the two frigates with their guns run out was proof of that. They trusted him to work out the odds and only ask of them what was reasonable. He had abused their trust, He held out his hands and clenched all but one of his fingers. Nine to one. If you committed suicide, the Church would not allow your body to be buried in consecrated ground. It was just as well that the sea obligingly accepted whatever it was offered. Then he remembered that not five minutes earlier he had pictured the Juno and Surcouf drifting, shattered shells, manned by corpses, and he cursed his imagination: it killed men and sank ships before their time.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
As the Juno stretched close-hauled down the coast, making a bare five knots and with the Surcouf following in her wake two hundred yards astern, the headland formed by Diamond Hill was fine on the larboard bow. The wind was fluking round the peak and freshening. Ramage guessed that once they were out of the lee of the land it would probably be from the east-north-east.
Diamond Rock had just come in sight clear of the headland and Ramage could see La Créole a couple of miles beyond it, well placed to give Wagstaffe a clear view of the convoy approaching the Fours Channel from the east still unaware that two British frigates were coming down from the north-west.
Wagstaffe had made no more signals, apart from reporting that the convoy was following the coast. He must be confident that it would reach the trap of the Fours Channel just as the Juno and Surcouf arrived to spring it. Leaving him with the responsibility of timing the operation had put a heavy load on the shoulders of the Juno's former Second Lieutenant. At first it had worried Ramage that so young a man could wreck everything through carelessness or nervousness. But the young Londoner had impressed him at last evening's conference in the cabin: he had asked several questions that revealed a quick and lively mind, not nervousness or indecision.
Ramage looked astern once again. The Surcouf was a fine sight in the Juno's wake, topsails and topgallants filled in taut curves, her guns rows of stubby black fingers, pointing menacingly through the ports, her bow wave like a white moustache flowing up from the cutwater. Within half an hour the guns would be belching smoke, but for the moment gulls wheeled round her and flying fish flashed low over the water, silver darts aimed without targets.
The French merchant ships were presumably still in the same formation, probably three columns with three ships forming the middle one and two the outer, but the four frigates would no longer be surrounding them. The land covered the eastern side of the convoy from attack, and would continue to do so all the way up to Fort Royal, so one frigate would probably be ahead, one abreast the leading merchantmen, another abreast the last one, and the fourth astern. This meant that the Juno, beating through the Fours Channel to attack the convoy from ahead, would have to dodge two frigates to get at the merchantmen, and the Surcouf, going on to round the Diamond itself before tacking up to cut off the convoy's retreat, would have to deal with the other two.
Ramage looked round at Orsini. 'You have signal number thirteen bent on ready?'
'Aye, aye, sir,' he said, and added: 'Prepare for battle, sir.'
Ramage nodded. 'And the Diamond Rock's pendant and number 123?'
'Aye, aye, sir. To the Juno and Ramage batteries, special signal, Attack the enemy's convoy of merchant ships or transports.’
'Don't get them mixed up, then,' Ramage warned, 'so that you hoist the wrong one.'
The boy pointed to two different halyards. 'No chance of that, sir.'
'And don't mislay the signal book, in case I need to make a signal in a hurry.'
'No, sir,' the boy said patiently, and then grinned. ‘I doubt if you'll need to use number sixteen, though, Engage the enemy more closely.'
Ramage smiled, glad of the boy's confidence. 'No, the lads need no encouraging.'