Ramage's Signal

'The Marchesa's living in England, Volterra's occupied, we've just finished making the Calypso very unpopular round Elba, so I can tell you the captain has no friends there - I know!' Jackson said.

'Why did Mr Orsini go to all the ships when they arrived then?'

'Because he speaks fluent French', Jackson said.

'And Italian', Rossi said triumphantly.

'And Spanish!' said Stafford, not to be outdone.

'So he could talk with the Spanish captains as well as the French', Jackson said. 'If he spoke a word of Italian tonight, it was to swear when he banged his shin on a thwart.'

'How do you know he banged his shin on a thwart?' demanded Rossi. 'You weren't in the boat.'

'My oath', Stafford grumbled, 'you really are 'ard work, Rossi my old sparrer.'

'Sparrer? Who is he?'

'Sparrow', Jackson said. 'Stafford's English is not very good. The bird. Little brown things, you see thousands of them everywhere.'

'Why does he call me a sparrer, then? Rossignol, perhaps. I sing not so good as the nightcap -'

'Nightingale', Jackson corrected him.

'- as the nightingale, then, but as for this sparrer -'

'Look, t'aint nothing ter do with singing', Stafford said. 'It's - well, where I come from to call someone "My old cock sparrer" is like, well, "mate", or "chum".'

'Perhaps, but this cock sparrer I do not like', Rossi said firmly. They shit all over you. I know. Even in Milan Cathedral during the Blessing.'

'All right, all right, I'm sorry', Stafford said. 'But why are we going to Italy?'

'I didn't say we were definitely going', Rossi said impatiently. 'I just hope we are.'

'Why?'

'This bloddy Spanish blackstrap, that's why', Rossi said crossly. 'The only true red wine is from Toscana - Tuscany, you call it. This Spanish vinegar the purser was given in Gibraltar - even Napolitani wouldn't drink it, and they're not particular if it is free.'

'Mention it to the captain', Jackson teased.

'Mama mia, you know how much he drinks.'

Jackson looked astern. 'Well, the convoy is forming up astern of us, so the course is southeast for the night anyway.'

'Very strange', Stafford said. 'You must admit that, Jacko; it's very strange.'

'I admit that', Jackson said readily enough, 'but it's "very strange" things on Mr Ramage's part that's put a pile of prize money in your pocket. How much are you worth now?'

'A few 'undred guineas', Stafford admitted. 'Enough to buy a nice quiet inn whenever I feel the urge to "run" or the war ends.'

'Don't "run"', Jackson advised. They'd piek you up in a couple of days, and the soldiers would relieve you of your guineas, too.'

'I was only jokin', but I got enough put away for a nice wife and a nice old age. In fac' I was thinking only the other day, the pressgang did me a good turn.'

'Yes, you certainly wouldn't have made a tenth of that burgling.'

'Burgling?' Stafford was horrifïed. 'I was a locksmith.'

'Yes, we know', Rossi said ironically. 'Always working by night.'

'Shut up!' hissed Jackson. 'What's that noise?'

It was not a single noise but a continuous one, starting off with an eerie creaking and groaning aloft which quickly merged into a crackling like the snapping of dried sticks and reached a climax with a bang like a gunshot. The three men looking aloft and aft, up at the foremast, saw the foreyard break into halves and come crashing down to the deck, leaving the topsail on the yard above ripped to pieces and beginning to flog in the wind.

Both Rossi and Stafford began to run aft but Jackson shouted to them to stop. In the few seconds it had taken to happen he had realized that as the two halves of the great yard - the second largest in the ship, seventy feet long and a foot and a half in diameter - hit the deck there had been no screams of pain, so it was unlikely that any injured men were trapped. And there was still more wreckage to fall - blocks the size of small church bells, perhaps the stunsail booms were still up there, caught in the rigging and yet to fall ... As he waited his fears were confirmed; heavy objectsthudded down on to the deck like falling roundshot, blocks slid off the ropes or ripped tackles, great sections of the torn foresail, which had been furled on the yard, fell like bales of straw, still bound by gaskets and tangled in clewlines and buntlines.

Then he saw men coming from aft with lanterns, advancing cautiously. 'Right lads, now we can go, but watch for anything else coming down.'

Aitken and Southwick had been standing with Ramage on the quarterdeck when the yard broke; both had begun to run forward, both had been halted by Ramage for the same reason Jackson had stopped the two seamen.

Once lanterns had been hurriedly lit, Ramage stayed at the quarterdeck rail as the first lieutenant and master went forward to begin with a search for injured men. Ramage knew only too well what had happened; all that mattered was first that no men had been hurt and second that the yard could be repaired. The carpenter was a good man and no doubt he and his mates could fish the two halves together again, because although the Calypso had spare topsail yards and topgallant yards stowed along the booms beside the boats, she did not have spare fore and main yards. He picked up the speaking trumpet and called for the bosun.

The man came running up the quarterdeck ladder as though answering a routine hail.

'Get the spare topsail sent up on deck from the sailroom, and a pair of slings. Leave the new foresail for the time being. I want that topsail hoisted up and bent on first. From the look of it there won't be much to save from the old one.'

'No, sir. Pity the sheets didn't part ...'

The topsail sheets passed through shoulder blocks at each end of the lower yardarm so that when the yard broke and fell its weight wrenched down on the sheets, which were secured one at each lower corner of the topsail, and tore it in half as one might rip a sheet of paper by pulling on the two lower corners.

Now was the time that Ramage detested being the captain: he would prefer to be forward there, going through thewreckage, making sure none of the men were trapped, seeing exactly what the damage was (apart from the broken yard, he would be lucky if two guns each side had not been dismounted and the carriages smashed), and assessing the best way of repairing it. Carpenters were skilled men but he found that sometimes they were narrow in their ideas.

He turned away deliberately and walked slowly aft, making sure he did not have his night vision affected by the reflection of one of the poop lanterns on a shiny section of the taffrail. With his nightglass he looked at the ships astern. No formation, not a set of masts in line to show they were on the same course. To work out which tack they were on he had to reverse in his mind what he saw with his eye, as well as visualize the ships the right way up. He shut the telescope with an impatient gesture: all the ships lacked was a drover and his dog, then they would look like ewes on their way to the market. However, he had to be fair; the three largest ships were reasonably close to the Calypso's wake and no doubt the rest would soon follow like children scared of the dark.

He called to the quartermaster and was told the ship was handling well under the maintopsail alone, despite the flogging remnants of the foretopsail, and even as the man replied, Ramage heard the noise lessen and, glancing up, saw that topmen were already out on the topsail yard, cutting the lacings securing the remains of the sail, which floated down like ghostly nightshirts.

Kenton came out of the darkness and saluted.

'The first lieutenant ordered me to report, sir. The foreyard broke in a split twelve feet long and Mr Aitken says it will be easy to fish. The foresail, as far as we can see because the gaskets still secure most of it to the pieces of the yard, can be repaired. Five guns - three to larboard and two to starboard - dismounted, but only one carriage smashed -'