He looked again, remembering the cloud of dust he had seen rising from one of the Diamond batteries' roundshot, then some of his elation vanished. The two white strakes certainly gave La Comète the appearance of a lower freeboard than usual, but the streams of water running through her scuppers told him that there was more to it than appearance: she was settling in the water. She had a bad leak - perhaps more than one - and the Frenchmen were pumping desperately. They had the head pumps rigged, and the steady stream of water pouring over the side amidships was from the chain pump. That explained why the French were not rushing about trying to rig preventer stays and get the ship under way. If three hundred Frenchmen could not stop her sinking what hope had a handful of men from the Juno and Surcouf? He realized that in the past fantastic fifteen minutes he had been counting on having three French frigates as prizes . . .
He waved to Southwick, who came running up to take the proffered telescope. The Master examined La Comète for a full minute, then gave the glass^back to Ramage. 'Seems a pity to let her slip through our fingers ...'
Ramage walked forward and leaned his elbows on the quarterdeck rail. He never allowed any men to do that, and he had never previously done it himself, but now his head felt heavy. Scattered round him were ten prizes. If Admiral Davis had caught the convoy with the Invincible and three frigates, he would have been delighted with himself for having destroyed one ship and captured the rest. Ramage realized bitterly that that was the difference: ten helpless ships were not ten prizes. Nothing was a prize until she was under his control and now his lack of men was likely to prove disastrous.
One frigate was sinking, two more were locked together, seven merchantmen were slowly drifting out to sea, and the further they got to the west the more the current would catch them. Finally they would come clear of the wind shadow cast by the island of Martinique and probably end up drifting across the Caribbean to Jamaica.
Southwick was still standing beside him, and looking ahead they could both see La Comète. She was less than a mile away now, with the Surcouf racing down to get to leeward of her.
'It's a good thing we can leave the merchantmen for a while longer, sir,' Southwick said quietly. 'Wagstaffe is tacking back and forth between them and the beach making sure those beggars don't row out again. Leaves us a few hours of daylight to tackle the frigates one at a time ...'
Ramage stared at the two frigates locked together before answering. All their sails had been furled, but the jibboom and bowsprit of one was still locked into the other. Through the glass it seemed as if her bow had ridden up the side and then dropped down in a chopping movement, perhaps smashing a hole in the planking above the waterline. They would not get free for many hours.
'One at a time, Mr Southwick,' Ramage agreed, and the Master's cheery and confident manner helped the plan forming in his mind. 'First we force La Comète to surrender . . .'
'Then I'll go over and inspect the damage, sir,' Southwick interrupted eagerly.
'No, you remain on board here. I'll go over and take the carpenter and some of his mates with me.'
‘But, sir,' Southwick protested, ‘’tis not a job for a captain!'
'You don't speak French, and there's more to it than hammering in leak plugs. We need bluff more than planks and nails.'
He cut short Southwick's protests by ordering Jackson to tell a cutter's crew to stand by and hand over to someone else as quartermaster.
La Comète's Tricolour was still streaming in the wind. Would the French go through the ritual, by which they set so much store, firing a broadside before hauling down the Colours? She was still turning slowly and by the time the Juno reached her she would be lying with her bow to the south.
'We'll pass along her larboard side about five hundred yards off,' he told Southwick. 'Warn the starboard side guns not to open fire until I give the order. That is most important.'
Now the Surcouf was passing a few hundred yards to leeward of La Comète, and Ramage watched her bow swing as she began to tack back again.
Southwick brought the Juno round so that she was heading south, with La Comète broad on her starboard bow. He shouted orders down to the starboard side guns, and then turned to face Ramage, waiting for the next move.
Ramage had the telescope to his eye, watching the French frigate's quarterdeck. A group of officers was standing by the binnacle and men were running to the guns. They had left it very late and there were not many men. A score or more on the other side were still at the head pumps - and the wheel had gone! At that moment there were spurts of flame and smoke as four or five of La Comète's guns fired into the sea: the Juno was too far astern of her for the guns to be trained that far aft. Then, suddenly, the Tricolour came down at the run.
Southwick began a bellow of laughter but broke it off to shout through his speaking trumpet that the starboard guns were not to fire. Then he strode over to Ramage, giving another of his contemptuous sniffs. 'You guessed they'd do that, sir,' he said almost accusingly. 'What do they call it?'
'Firing a few guns "pour l'honneur de pavilion"?’
'Just another way of covering yourself against being accused of surrendering without firing a shot,' Southwick growled, watching closely as the Juno passed the frigate.
'It seems to be necessary in the French service,’ Ramage murmured, his eyes taking in the damage to La Comète's yards and rigging. 'And they're always careful to fire the shots where they'll do no harm. Now,' he added briskly, 'if you'll heave-to the Juno to windward, and pace the quarterdeck like an irascible captain, I'll go over and deal with these Frenchmen,'
'Irascible captain!' Southwick snorted.
'Oh yes,' Ramage said. ‘As far as the French are concerned, I'm merely the first lieutenant. You've given me harsh orders which I've no choice but to carry out. You'll listen to no argument...'
Southwick grinned as he began bellowing orders to back the Juno's foretopsail. 'By the way, sir, I'll furl the t'gallants if I may.'
Fifteen minutes later Ramage climbed up the side of La Comète, thankful that the French had thoughtfully rigged well-scrubbed manropes. He was followed by half a dozen men armed to the teeth and who, he had noticed as the cutter was being rowed over, were all former Tritons.
As he reached the deck and acknowledged the salutes of the group of French officers he saw out of the corner of his eye that not only was the wheel missing but a gaping hole had been torn in the deck where it had stood. A plunging shot from one of the guns of the Diamond batteries had done terrible damage.
One of the officers stepped forward, proffering his sword, which he was holding horizontally in both hands. Ramage noticed that his uniform was identical with the other officers, but covered in fine dust. The man's face was white and he was gripping the sword like an alcoholic clutching a glass.
‘Iam Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste Thurot, sir, and to you I surrender the French national frigate La Comète.'
Ramage took the sword and then saw that the man's hands were trembling violently. He answered in French: 'I accept the surrender, but your Captain ...?'
Thurot swallowed and, turning slightly, gestured towards the hole in the quarterdeck. 'He was standing there talking to me . . . There was a terrible crash ... I was hurled three metres against the taffrail . . . All we found of him was . . .' He pointed at one of the officers, who held out a bent sword and a torn tricorne.
‘My sympathies,' Ramage said formally. ‘You were the First Lieutenant?'
'Yes, so I succeeded to the command. But before I could warn La Prudente, she blew up. Those guns on le Diamant - mon Dieu!’
Ramage passed the surrendered sword to Jackson and immediately another French lieutenant stepped forward to proffer his. Ramage took them one after another until Jackson had four tucked under his arm.