The carpenter struck one blow, and then called to one of his men, who had a jar of Stockholm tar and a brush. He dabbed the bolt with tar and after each blow with the hammer wetted the bolt and wood again.
As the bolt drove into the wood one of the mates crouched down to watch for the other end to emerge. He had to make sure that the wood did not split and that the lower fish was held securely by the turns of the Spanish windlasses, even though the glue had not yet set hard.
'Here she comes!' he called, and at once the carpenter began delivering lighter strokes. 'An inch to go ... end's level ... out half an inch and no splitting...'
The carpenter dropped the hammer with the proud gesture of a skilled craftsman: other and lesser men could drive the remaining bolts now he had shown them how itshould be done, and then clench the lower ends over the big washers, or roves, so that each bolt became a great rivet.
Already the bosun was cutting lengths of rope, each one long enough to go round the yard eight times, and his mates were busy putting whippings on each end to prevent the strands unlaying. Several men with chisels and gouges were cutting grooves round the yard just deep enough for the rope to lie in for a third of its diameter, but because of the fishes the grooves need be only along the edges of the planks. Lying ready were piles of copper nails, awls to drill the holes in the wood and fids to make holes through the whole rope, rather than let the copper nails drive down between the strands.
Southwick came up the quarterdeck ladder after a tour of inspection and reported to Ramage: 'He'll have finished it by noon, sir: a good man, Lewis; he's got a sense of order. Prepares things so that as he finishes one part the next one is ready.'
'One of those bolts could make a bad split if it's a fraction too big or the hole bored too small', Ramage said. Td like to see Lewis drive them all.'
Southwick nodded. 'Aye, sir, that's the one thing that really could set us back a day. I'll go down and tell him.'
As the master left, Ramage looked astern gloomily. It did not seem possible that fifteen ships could occupy so much space: they were spread from a mile astern of the Calypso - that was the Sarazine - in a vast semicircle to the horizon. As soon as Lewis has driven those bolts, Ramage vowed, the Calypso would be forcing them into the formation described in the orders that Orsini had delivered to each master.
Martin was the officer of the deck and it was Orsini's watch. Martin was proving a very competent watchkeeper and Ramage was thankful that his next letter to Gianna would still be able to give Paolo honest praise because he was (apart from mathematics) improving almost daily.
Ramage guessed that both youngsters were giving impatient glances astern, waiting for the captain to turn the Calypso back to crack the whip round the merchant ships. Neither of them appreciated that for the time being it did notmatter; what mattered was that an unexpected roll did not upset the foreyard, which could not be chocked up, shored up, roped down, wedged or lashed too tightly at this stage because it was important that when drilled and bolted it was in its natural shape. In an emergency, yes, it would be worth risking bolting in a slight bend, but at this stage with the convoy at least following, albeit like sheep ambling across a field in search of fresh grass, and no risk of an enemy, good formation did not really matter. Not, Ramage realized, that he could say such a thing out loud in front of his offïcers.
'We could do with the Passe Partout now, sir', Orsini said cautiously. As a rule midshipmen did not initiate conversations with captains, and Paolo was more than anxious that he should not appear to take advantage of the fact that the Marchesa was his aunt. The result was, of course, that he spoke to the captain less than if he had been a complete stranger.
'We could also do with another frigate', Ramage said sourly.
'But in these light airs, sir, a tartane...'
Ramage gave a sniff that he was sure Southwick would envy; a perfect blend of understanding Paolo's motives in making the remark, a superior knowledge of the sailing ability of tartanes in general and the Passe Partout in particular, and some information that Paolo did not possess.
'If I was the master of the Sarazine', Ramage said, 'I don't think I'd be bothered by any tartane in my wake.'
'But she has swivels, sir. Three-pounder shot whistling round your ears...'
'And the Sarazine has 9-pounders, and a stem that could cut the Passe Partout in half without scraping any paint...'
'Yes, sir', Paolo agreed regretfully. 'Still, the Passe Partout is keeping well up; she's only one ship astern of the Sarazine.'
'I've noticed that', Ramage said heavily. 'Fetch me the French signal book: it is in the binnacle drawer.'
Ramage glanced at it to check a signal, and said: 'Mr Martin - hoist the French signal for "The convoy is to take up close formation at once", and fire a gun to draw attention to it. Leave it hoisted until I give the word.' He handed the signal book to the lieutenant, pointing out the flags.
Three minutes later, with the flags hoisted, one of the Calypso's sternchase guns was fired. The smoke drifted forward over the quarterdeck and as it cleared Ramage looked at the French ships with his glass, shut it with a snap, and said to Martin: 'I'm going to my cabin. Pass the word if those mules pay any attention to the signal.'
As he sat down on the settee, remembering he had not filled in his journal for the previous day's events, Ramage knew that although Paolo wanted to get on board the Passe Partout simply because he was a young lad who dreamed of his own command, the fact was that Lewis would have the yard repaired by noon; it would be hoisted and the foresail bent on and the lead of the foretopsail sheets corrected by two o'clock at the latest, and it would be better if the convoy was in some sort of formation by then, rather than having the Calypso chasing round in light airs ...
The Passe Partout, according to Paolo, had a master, mate and four men on board. That, the boy admitted, was all he saw. So there would also be a cook, and perhaps another couple of men who were sleeping when Paolo was on board. Nine men, say a dozen at the most. The problem was not how to overpower a dozen men and seize the ship, but how to do it without fourteen other ships seeing it, getting alarmed and bolting.
He told the sentry to pass the word for Aitken, who arrived breathless, assuming something had gone wrong.
'No', Ramage assured him, 'quite to the contrary. It is just that we'll very soon need a sheepdog to yap at the convoy's heels.'
'Ah - that tartane, sir, the Passe Partout.'
'You've been listening to young Orsini!'
'Yes, sir, but I must admit I think she's the one I'd choose.'
'You're more concerned with sparing the fewest men for a prize crew', Ramage said teasingly.
'Aye, that's true, sir, but I can find a dozen without much strain.'
'And who would you put in command?' Ramage asked out of curïosity.
'Orsini, if we just want yapping at their heels; Martin if there are likely to be any serious decisions to be taken which he can't refer to you.'
'You have a good opinion of Martin.'
'Yes, sir, he'll go far. And he's having an excellent influence on Orsini. They work well together. That sort of thing is, in my experience, unusuaclass="underline" normally a midshipman wants to show off and a lieutenant won't listen to him. But they both like and trust each other, like a younger and older brother. Orsini has, well, I suppose it's a cosmopolitan view because of his background, and Martin is a fine seaman. Each wants to learn what the other has to offer - at least, that's my impression, sir.'