'The Magpie, sir', Martin said as he put his quadrant away in its box, having carefully wiped spray from the brass fittings. 'She's catching up very fast!'
'Ah, there are your Frenchmen', Ramage told Orsini. 'Tell the master to show you where their muskets and pistols are kept, and then make sure his men have them.'
The wind was piping up; it was now a fresh breeze, cooling the decks a little, and increasing the belly of the sail. The Magpie, he had to admit, looked a fine sight, although he would be quite satisfied if he could admire her a mile away, instead of a few hundred yards.
The Algerines were obviously going to pass to leeward and give the Passe Partout a broadside; then they would probably drop astern and come up again on the weather side and board. There must be a couple of hundred of them, judging from the crowd lining the weather rail, and, he suspected, by habit they were acting as human ballast, as they would in a xebec or tartane.
The French master came waddling aft, and suddenly held out his hand. 'Chesneau', he said. 'Albert Chesneau.'
Ramage shook it and introduced himself, giving his name the English pronunciation. Chesneau did not hear it clearly because at that moment the tiller creaked louder than usual, so Ramage repeated it with the French pronunciation.
'Ramage - the Ramage?' Chesneau was obviously impressed. 'Ha, I've heard of you and I've said a few prayers that I'd never meet you at sea. I imagined different circumstances!'
By now Orsini was leading the French seamen from the cabin and they were busy checking over muskets and pistols. Ramage looked round for Martin.
'Listen, this ship should have been your command and I'm sorry to be interfering, but the next half an hour is likely to be busy, so I'll give you a hand. Orsini can use those Frenchmen like Marines, and their muskets will help. I want you to look after the sail handling. I suggest you put Jackson in charge of the swivels. Leave Rossi at the tiller, and I'll give him a hand if he needs it.'
'Aye aye, sir', Martin said and then looked almost shy. 'Will you pardon me for saying it, sir, we all know the Magpie's going to do us in, but it's an honour to be beside you, sir, and none of us would be anywhere else.'
Suddenly all the men round gave a cheer which was swamped by a bellow from Baxter: 'Three cheers an' a tiger for 'is Lordship - 'ip 'ip, 'urray!'
An embarrassed Ramage stood still until they had finished, then gave the men a salute in reply and a grin of encouragement.
'Right lads, I've a deal of paperwork to finish in the Calypso, so let's hurry up and finish off this bird astern!'
The men roared with laughter, Orsini hastily translating for the Frenchmen.
'Remember this', Ramage shouted to make himself heard above the increasing wind and the laughter, 'that schooner is expecting to give us a broadside or two and then board.
'Now you know that, forget it. Forget everything except the job you now have. Men at the sheets, braces and downhauls: that's your entire life for the next half an hour - if you want to live. You men at the swivels - fire as fast as you can but as accurately as possible. Your target will always be the Magpie's quarterdeck if your gun will bear, otherwise her topmasts.'
He lapsed into French. 'You new allies are the sharpshooters. Try and pick off the magpies and jackdaws on the quarterdeck, particularly anyone that looks like an officer.'
He looked at the Magpie and realized that the new sound of popping was musket fire from the Arabs swarming out along the Magpie's bowsprit and, he noted, getting in each other's way. She was less than a hundred yards astern and spray was slicing up from her bow as she raced up to the Passe Partout.
'One last thing', Ramage shouted, 'and make sure you translate this, Orsini: don't waste a single shot. Aim and fire. If you can't aim properly, wait for a target to present itself.'
The Calypso had tacked again, weaving in and out of the ships of the convoy. Neither Aitken nor Southwick would ever guess what he was originally going to try to do with that damned convoy, and if they had any sense they would grab the Sarazine and Golondrina and make for Gibraltar.
Southwick would eventually visit Gianna, of course, and he would tell her what little he had seen of the last few minutes of her sweetheart and her heir, and Jackson, Rossi and Stafford. She would mourn but she would be proud, even if the Admiralty made a fuss about him leaving the ship.
He mopped his face with his handkerchief, not because he was dripping with perspiration but because he wanted to wipe away the black thoughts. And, being human, he could be permitted some black thoughts when nine Britons and six Frenchmen in a tiny tartane found themselves about to be boarded by a schooner crowded with a couple of hundred Algerine pirates, whose shrill shouts and screams he could now hear, a noise of wild animals - how he imagined wolves chased their quarry.
He looked around the Passe Partout. The six swivels were loaded; men stood at them with linstocks round which were wound smoking slowmatch. The Frenchmen were settling themselves down in comfortable corners with their muskets, arranging powder, shot and rammers to hand.
Chesneau, having talked to each of his men, was now waddling aft to join Ramage and Rossi right aft. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the Magpie. 'The owners of that schooner allow the captain even less paint than mine do for the Passe Partout!'
'I don't think they've had her long', Ramage said. 'You see she has damage down the larboard side? I think that was done when they captured her from the British.'
Chesneau shivered. 'I hope your countrymen had quick deaths; otherwise they are still chained in the galleys.'
'You do not have the build for rowing', Ramage said, 'so perhaps we had better not be captured.'
'I would kiss the Pope's ring and never dodge another tax to avoid that', Chesneau said, 'but our fate is only a couple of ship's lengths astern now.'
'Yes', Ramage said, looking round at Rossi, who was watching the leech of the Passe Partout's sail, a cheerful grin on his face as Stafford shouted some teasing obscenity at him.
'You are very calm, M'sieu Ramage; you even smile.'
'I'm smiling because I am about to do something of which I do not entirely approve, M'sieu Chesneau.'
'Indeed? You have left it late in life to acquire a new bad habit!'
The Magpie was perhaps forty yards astern now and the black marks appearing in the Passe Partout's sail were being made by musket balls.
'It may not be a bad habit; it's just one I avoid as much as possible.'
'You intrigue me. What are you going to do, M'sieu Ramage?'
'Gamble, M'sieu Chesneau: Les jeux sont faits!'
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Admittedly it was a bet for which he would be hard put to find a taker, whether among the bookies on Newmarket Heath or the pallid gamblers at White's or Brooks's or Boodle's. He was betting the life of the fifteen motley crew of the Passe Partout on a single chance: that the couple of hundred or so Algerines who had captured the Magpie only a few weeks ago were still bewildered; that the towering masts and running and standing rigging of a gaff-rigged topsail schooner was such a complex mass of spars and rope, to men used to simple lateen sails hoisted on stubby masts, that they were certainly unused to it and probably still nervous.
He stood close to Rossi and gave his instructions. The tip of the Magpie's flying jibboom was less than forty yards astern; the musket balls were beginning to rattle and Jackson, having been warned by Ramage, was waiting the signal to fire his swivels into the screaming and gibbering mass of Arabs on the Magpie's bow while Orsini held back his Frenchmen.
'This ship', Ramage said to Chesneau in a conversational tone, 'she handles easily?'