Ramage's Signal

'A blunt - oh, I see what you mean!'

Then the gig was alongside and Orsini led the way up the side. He pictured the signature 'Ramage' on his orders and knew that his hands were not trembling, nor would they. There was no one on deck, not even the grubby man with the bucket.

'Come with me', he said to Stafford and Rossi, and to Jackson he said: 'Take your men and secure the ship's company: we'll make do with the master!'

As he went down the companionway, Orsini pulled a pistol from his belt, then changed his mind, thrust it back and drew the cutlass, because close by he could hear heavy snoring.

They found the master of the Caroline deep asleep in an armchair; it took more than a minute to waken him. As soon as it looked as though he could haul in the fact that he had just lost his ship, Paolo said conversationally in French:

'M'sieu, forgive me for waking you, but your ship is now a prize to His Britannic Majesty's frigate the Calypso ...'

He could have said it more briefly but he liked the way the words flowed. Now the poor fellow was wide awake. Dressed only in a long pair of underpants - he was obviously from the south of France where, as in Italy, they believed it was medically perilous not to wear wool next to the skin at all times - he had the trapped look of a calf in a slaughterhouse.

'Can I move?' the man asked cautiously.

'Certainly, stand up and dress, because in a few minutes you must leave the ship.'

'To go where?' The man was used to people being taken away in tumbrils to guillotines set up in town squares.

'To a firing squad, eh? Or to a noose dangling from a yardarm? Or a push over the side with a heavy piece of ballast tied on your back?' It was a macabre sort of teasing, but in escaping from Volterra and making his way to Naples, Paolo had seen thirty or forty guillotines set up in small towns, and beside most of them the rusty iron replica of a tree of liberty.

'Do I choose?' the man whispered, as though invisible hands were trying to strangle him.

'You had better dress first', Orsini said, and while the man pulled on his clothes he told Jackson of the conversation so far.

'I wondered why he suddenly went white and started perspiring, sir. Has he said which he prefers?'

'Not yet; he's probably making up his mind now.'

Finally the Caroline's master was dressed and Paolo said: 'The ship's papers - where are they?'

The man went to a cupboard and took out several documents. 'They are here - ship's certificate of registry, charter party, bills of lading, manifest ...'

'Muster book, log ... ?'

The man put his hand back in the cupboard. 'All in here, with my quadrant, tables, almanac'

'Put them back', Paolo ordered and, as the man shut the cupboard door again, asked casually: 'Have you made up your mind?'

The man took a deep breath which ended in a sob. 'Firing squad. Not the noose nor drowning, I beg of you ... And m'sieu, is there any way I can send a message to my wife? You see, I hid some money in the garden: buried it - for security, you understand.'

'Oh yes, it will be secure enough - unless your wife's new husband begins to plant potatoes ...'

The thought of it brought tears to the man's eyes and Paolo, glancing at his watch, decided the joke had gone far enough. 'You may yet be lucky enough to dig it up yourself: go down into the boat alongside. You and your men are going to be put on shore. You will at once start making your way inland: if any of you stay near the beach you will be hunted down and shot.'

The man hurried out of the cabin as though afraid this crazy youth would change his mind.

Ramage walked from one side of the Calypso's quarterdeck to the other, listening to the 'Thunk... thunk' of the capstan pawls on board the five ships and the clacking of the schooner's windlass. All six were weighing on time, and Southwick was cursing the Sarazine. In hauling up to her anchor she was coming very close to the Calypso, just as he had feared when her original French captain anchored her.

Ramage looked across at the Golondrina, which was on the other side: she was creeping ahead and in three or four minutes would be clear of the Calypso. He picked up the speaking trumpet and hailed the Sarazine.

'Mr Aitken

As soon as the Scot answered, Ramage called, keeping his voice low: "Vast heaving for a few minutes, until the Golondrina is clear of us. Then I'll let fall our mizentopsail so we can give our stern a sheer to starboard out of your way. But have them step out lively at the capstan!'

'Aye aye, sir. The way these Frenchmen anchored, you'd think they were leaving haycarts in a farmyard for the night.'

Southwick looked at the Spanish brig with his glass and saw Kenton watching the Calypso warily. Suddenly her topsails were let fall while the headsails soared up the stays.

'Kenton had lashings in place of gaskets on those topsails', Southwick commented to Ramage. 'Good idea when you're shorthanded and there's not much room.'

'As long as the topmen have sharp knives.' Ramage looked round again. 'I think we can let fall our mizentopsail and back it, Mr Southwick.'

The master gave the orders for the topmen, had the quartermaster put the wheel over, and watched as the yard was braced round until the sail was backed, the wind pressing on its forward side and pushing the Calypso's stern away from the Sarazine, whose capstan once again continued its rhythmic clanking.

Then Ramage saw one of the other ships already under way: a brig, the Caroline. She was making the first tack to leave the gulf under topsails. He guessed Aitken would be cross; but for the pause to avoid the Calypso he would have led out his convoy.

'Orsini's lads were determined they'd be first', Southwick commented. 'It'll do him good: build up his confidence for when it gets dark.'

How right the master was. For a moment Ramage was surprised that Southwick, who must be sixty or more, could remember, although Ramage himself recalled as though it was yesterday the first prize he commanded as a midshipman, and how his courage had gone down with the setting sun - or, to be more honest, his cowardice arrived with the dusk.

The Golondrina was under way, and Martin had the Bergère tacking under topsails - Ramage could imagine him being pleasantly annoyed at being beaten by Orsini. Now Rennick was tacking across the gulf with the Matilda, and he saw that the main and foresails of the Rosette schooner had been hoisted, with the headsails following. There was a pause as the peaks of both gaffs were hoisted another foot or two to give a tighter leech and take out some creases; then the schooner bore away as the bosun confidently hardened in sheets and set off after the Caroline.

Now the Sarazine's anchor was being catted as her topsails were sheeted home and she headed for the southern end of Sant' Antioco island, where the other five ships would join her.

'I wonder what the rest of these Frenchmen are thinking now', Southwick said, half to himself and gesturing at the remaining anchored ships. 'Just imagine, eight left - nine, rather; I keep forgetting we have the Passe Partout - and not one of the masters suspicious or coming across to ask us questions.'

'Not one of them bothering to watch, as far as I can see', Ramage said, closing his telescope, 'and that's just as well.'

Southwick nodded happily. 'Yes, we've a busy night ahead of us.'

'Have you that anchorage diagram?'

'Yes, here it is', Southwick said, opening the binnacle box drawer and taking out a sheet of paper. He put it down on the top of the binnacle, holding two sides of it against the wind as Ramage put an arm across the other.

Eight ships were drawn at the precise positions in which they were anchored. They were all linked to the Calypso by lines radiating from her like spokes from an axle, and along each line was written the particular ship's bearing, so that at night a boat with a compass could be sent from the Calypso to find her.