by Dudley Pope
‘I don’t think he came this way. If he knew we were down here – and they would have warned him – then I think he made a bolt for it to the north: he had the current to help him and it is a far easier passage.’
And, Ramage thought to himself, apart from my own feelings, Admiral Cameron is not going to be very pleased that this damned frigate has fooled us twice – made us look silly on successive nights. Now he knew he should have moved further north, doubling up on the brig. Now he knew that. But being wise twelve hours too late was the same as not being wise at all. He had to face the fact that the French frigate had hoodwinked him not once but twice. The first time could be put down to the Frenchman being unexpected; the second just showed that Ramage was unprepared.
Southwick arrived on the quarterdeck, and Aitken told him about the brig’s signal. Southwick gave a rueful laugh, and said to Ramage: ‘I can imagine you getting in and out of a port that the French were blockading. But to have them doing it to us…’
Ramage laughed as well, though there was little humour in it. ‘Yes, that Frenchman caught us napping twice running. We’ve got to make sure that the Achille does not make it three times. We can’t rely on the brig.’
‘No, it’s hard to know if young Bennett isn’t up to the job or just plain unlucky: being in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
‘He said he was going to get close in with Fort Royal,’ Ramage said. ‘Either he was not close enough or he chose the wrong place.’
‘He couldn’t have stopped the frigate actually sailing,’ Southwick said placatingly. ‘He could only have raised the alarm.’
‘Yes, I was just mentioning to Aitken that she may have bolted out to the north.’
‘Aye, well, the Achille might go the same way.’
‘That brings up the next problem: do we try to intercept her on her way out to meet the convoy, or when she escorts it back?’
‘Does it make any difference?’ asked Southwick.
‘Yes. We have two advantages over him when he’s escorting it back. He’s tied to the convoy’s course and speed, and he has to come in round Cabrit Island.’
‘Yes, but he’ll be reinforced by a frigate or two – maybe another ship of the line: who knows, the French might be determined to get this convoy through, and have given it a big escort.’
‘In that case,’ Ramage said wryly, ‘we are going to be bustling about, but whatever the escort, they’ll be coming round Cabrit Island.’
‘You don’t think they’d risk coming north-about, guessing we’d be waiting off Cabrit?’
‘No, they daren’t risk the whole convoy losing the wind and being carried off to the north by the current. It was different for that frigate – the northgoing current would help him. But I can’t see those merchant ships making a couple of knots to windward in light airs.’
‘No, sir,’ Southwick agreed. ‘They’d be colliding with each other, especially if they were trying to get in at night.’
‘I can’t see them attempting it at night,’ Aitken said. ‘The French merchantmen must be as mulish as the British, and we’d never risk it.’
‘No,’ said Ramage, ‘it will be south-about. By the way,’ he told Aitken, ‘you can fetch Orsini down now.’
If the frigate had brought news of the convoy, Ramage told himself, then the Achille must be making ready for sea. And that was a good point that Southwick had made – that the convoy might have another ship of the line with it. To let the Achille join the convoy meant making sure of having to tackle two ships of the line at once. If he could deal with the Achille before she joined the convoy…
What about going north to look at the Achille this afternoon, to see if she had swayed up her yards? He could rely on the brig to warn him, but he admitted he would feel happier if he had a look himself. Would the Dido’s sudden appearance off Fort Royal alarm the Achille, or warn her what she might expect if she ventured out? Ramage doubted it: the French would know, from lookouts on the coast, that the Dido was round the corner, so it should not make any difference.
Well, what was he going to do, go for the Achille on the way out or on the way back? He needed to make up his mind. The prospect of another ship of the line with the convoy finally decided him.
By late afternoon the Dido was heading into Fort Royal with a brisk easterly wind knocking up white caps as she beat in towards Fort St Louis and the Carénage.
Southwick, Aitken and Ramage were all watching the Achille with their telescopes. Finally Southwick said: ‘She’s as ready for sea as she’ll ever be. There’s no doubt that frigate brought her the news she’s been waiting for.’
‘I wonder how far out the convoy is?’ Aitken said, speculatively. ‘Probably fairly close.’
‘Close enough for the frigate to leave it and return, giving enough time for the Achille to get out to it.’
Southwick said: ‘Why doesn’t she sail now? She knows she’s got to fight us, and a night action is always risky.’
‘These nights are dark: no moon yet. She might think she can dodge us – and she might be lucky!’ Ramage said. ‘If we sit hove to off Pointe des Nègres she’s going to have trouble getting past us – unless it’s squally and she manages to dodge us in a patch of poor visibility.’
Ramage looked round at the sky: the usual Trade wind clouds were coming off the island and the weather looked settled enough. ‘Not much chance of squalls tonight,’ he said. ‘It looks as though the Achille is going to have to come out in clear visibility.’
‘We need some luck after missing that damned frigate,’ Southwick growled.
Ramage finally made up his mind. ‘We’ll wait off Pointe des Nègres, and the Scourge can watch to the south. Mr Aitken, I’ll trouble you to hoist the brig’s pendant and the signal for her captain.’
After the brig had sailed in and hove to a hundred yards to windward, hoisting out a boat, Lieutenant Bennett came on board, nervous as though expecting a broadside from Ramage for missing the frigate when she sailed during the night. But Ramage did not mention the episode. Instead he said: ‘I am fairly sure the Achille will sail tonight. I am equally sure that she will try to get out to the northwards. I shall be waiting off Pointe des Nègres and I want you to watch to the south.
‘I’ll be hove to between the Banc de Ia Vierge and the Pointe, somewhere on the sixteen-fathom line. You can be waiting in your normal position. If you sight her under way, fire two white rockets if she is heading north, and three if south. And you shadow her as close as you can without her getting in a broadside. Set off a false fire at five-minute intervals, so we know where you are, and burn two if there’s a radical change of course.’
‘What if she attacks me, sir?’ Bennett asked.
‘You either dodge her or you get sunk,’ Ramage said drily. ‘But try to shadow her from astern. She might loose off her sternchaser guns, but you won’t have much to worry about after the first round: the muzzle flash will blind the French gunners.’
‘Now don’t forget,’ Ramage said. ‘Two white rockets mean he’s going northwards and three south. False fires at five-minute intervals and two together for a radical change of course. Do you want me to give you that in writing?’
‘No, I can remember it, sir,’ Bennett said, showing a sudden surge of confidence, as though listening to Ramage had made him more sure of himself.
Bennett returned to the brig, which went back to her patrol line, where she would wait until twilight before returning close in to the Passe du Carénage.
Southwick sniffed. ‘I wish I could make up my mind about that lad,’ he said. ‘One minute he seems confident enough and the next he seems too nervous.’
‘I think he expected trouble over that frigate,’ Ramage said. ‘From his point of view it was entirely his fault.’
‘Aye, and if you weren’t the man you are, your report to the admiral would say so.’
Ramage shrugged his shoulders and laughed. ‘Well, it wasn’t so long ago I was commanding a brig. Perhaps I fee
l sorry for him.’
Southwick shook his head. ‘I hope you’re not going soft, sir!’
Chapter Seventeen
Twilight turned to darkness with the suddenness for which the Tropics are notorious, and the Dido hove to a mile from Pointe des Nègres, her bow heading into the cliffs which lined the shore.
The Pointe itself stuck out to the south-west like a stubby tail, cliffs right to the narrow end. At one mile Ramage could, with the nightglass, just make out the blacker blur of the land, but he was not sure he would be able to distinguish a ship. The Achille, coming out of the Baie du Carénage, would have to sail south for more than half a mile before turning north-west so that she avoided the shallow Banc du Fort St Louis. But what would she do after that if she intended making a bolt to the north – follow the land round to Pointe des Nègres, or head out to the west to make an offing before turning north?
If she went out to the west and the Scourge was not following her and burning false fires, the Dido would miss her: Ramage was betting that she would keep close to the land. The Achille had plenty of choices. She could come out to the south-west before turning north-west: an arc of some three miles which the Dido could not hope to cover. Did young Bennett realise how much depended on him? It was probably a good thing if he did not: he might get so nervous that his judgement was affected.
‘How many lookouts do we have?’ Ramage asked Aitken.
‘Eight, sir: two extra ones. One on the starboard bow, one aft on the starboard side.’
‘We’ll beat to quarters now. If they sailed as soon as it was dark they could be along here within twenty minutes or so, and it takes us fifteen minutes to get to general quarters.’
Aitken gave the order and in a couple of minutes the two Marine drummers were striking up. Once again, even though it was dark, Ramage was reminded of an anthill being stirred up as the men hurried to their positions. They would be loading the 32-pounders, which had a range of 2,080 yards, and the 24-pounders, which could fire a shot 1,800 yards, while the 12-pounders could manage 1,500 yards. Nor were the shot insignificant – the 32-pounders were 6.1 inches in diameter, the 24-pounders 5.6 inches, and the 12-pounders were a comparatively modest 4.4 inches.
So much for the figures, Ramage thought. The problem in a night action was the muzzle flash: it blinded the gunners and half-blinded and certainly confused the officers on the quarterdeck. In fact night actions were very rare: the problem of judging distances and aiming the guns properly made most captains, British and French, avoid them if they could. In fact the Achille was almost certainly sailing at night because her captain thought it was the best way of avoiding an action with the Dido: he was relying on the Dido’s reluctance to fight as much as the chance of dodging her in the dark.
Ramage heard the rumble of the carronades being run out on their slides and could imagine Orsini’s excitement: his first night action in a 74-gun ship. There was, Ramage had to admit, something awe-inspiring about taking such a big ship into action. There was 200 feet of ship from figurehead to taffrail, 24,000 square feet of canvas aloft, and the ship weighed about 2,800 tons…yes, the figures were impressive enough, and it was important to realise that they applied to the Achille as well. And when they came to fight each other, both the giants could be blinded by the gun flashes…
When Aitken reported the starboard side guns loaded with roundshot and run out, Ramage told him to do the same thing with the larboard guns. ‘But tell the guns’ crews to stand by the starboard guns when they’ve finished; I have a feeling that we shall be engaging to starboard.’
In the darkness the deck forward of the mainmast looked curiously empty: all the boats had been hoisted out and were towing astern, so that random shot did not shatter them on the booms and send a shower of lethal splinters across the deck.
Guns loaded and run out: the ship ready for battle. Now was the time to strip the ship down to fighting canvas. The Achille would probably come into sight with every stitch of canvas set as she hurried to the north, but she would be unhandy, and Ramage was sure he was not going to get caught in the same trap.
‘Take in the topgallants, Mr Aitken.’
Aitken began shouting orders through the speaking trumpet. It would mean that topmen would have to leave the guns, but the main thing was that the guns were now loaded and ready to fire.
As soon as the topgallants were furled on the yard Ramage gave the order to furl the courses. With the Dido down to topsails she was now reduced to fighting canvas. All she needed, Ramage thought grimly, was someone to fight.
There were now more clouds than usual and they hid the stars, making it a dark night. It was just possible to distinguish the cliffs at Pointe des Nègres, but there was no sign of the horizon to seaward. They would probably – though not certainly – spot the Achille if she passed between the Dido and the land, but if she passed to seaward, Ramage estimated, they would miss her – unless the Scourge was shadowing her. Everything was beginning to turn on the brig, and Ramage wished he had more trust in Bennett.
Aitken said: ‘It seems an especially dark night. We could do with a bit of a moon.’
‘Yes – new moon tomorrow, although it sets so early it wouldn’t be much use.’
‘This cloud may clear away,’ Aitken said hopefully. ‘Then we’d get a bit more help from the starlight.’
‘There’s not much chance of that. If it hasn’t gone by sunset it usually means it’s here for–’
He broke off as a white rocket curved up from where he knew the Scourge was waiting. ‘One…two…’ he paused for a few seconds, ‘–he’s coming northwards!’ Ramage said jubilantly. ‘Now for the false fires!’
He began to feel guilty for having doubted Bennett: it looked as though the brig was going to do her job successfully. And, three minutes later, as if to emphasise the point, she set off the false fire and in the eerie blue glow Ramage was sure he could distinguish the outline of the Achille, showing that the brig was shadowing closely.
‘There she is!’ Southwick exclaimed excitedly. ‘I just saw the sails: a couple of hundred yards or so due east of the brig.’
‘I thought I saw something with the naked eye: you have the nightglass.’
‘I’ve lost her now the false fire has gone out. It seems even darker just there. By Jove, that is her; I can just make her out.’
‘The Scourge should be setting off another false fire in five minutes, so don’t worry if you lose her. Did you get any impression of where she’s heading?’
‘Up towards us, sir. She must have come out of the Carénage and the Scourge spotted her as she rounded the Banc du Fort St Louis – that was about where the brig was going to wait.’
Now for the gamble, Ramage thought to himself: he was gambling that the Achille was going to follow the coast round to the Pointe des Nègres, but she could make a bolt seaward. If she did that, would he catch her in time? It would be a close-run thing.
Southwick cursed as he lost sight of the Achille and the five-minute wait for the next false fire seemed to last an eternity. Ramage estimated that five minutes had more than elapsed and decided that the brig had lost sight of the Achille. He was just about to tell Southwick to resume his search with the nightglass when suddenly the brig appeared, bathed in an eerie blue light, and just to landward of her Ramage could clearly distinguish the bulky shape of the Achille.
There was no doubt about it: she was keeping close in with the shore, once having rounded the shoal off Fort St Louis. And, Ramage decided, if there is any justice in this miserable world, she should pass just the right distance off Pointe des Nègres, blissfully unaware that the Dido is lying in wait, unseen and – with luck – unexpected.
Now there was another five-minute wait for the next false fire. Five minutes or an hour? It seemed all the same to Ramage, but eventually the blue light appeared again and he could make out the Achille in the circle of illumination thrown by the flare. She was on the same course, and Ramage estimated it would bring her roun
d to about three-quarters of a mile off Pointe des Nègres – which would mean in turn that she would pass close to the Dido, even if the Dido did not move.
‘We seem to be in the right position,’ Aitken said. ‘There’s no obstruction between her and us that would make her alter course.’
‘Unless her captain decides he wants more westing before he turns north,’ Southwick said gloomily. ‘He may be scared of passing Pointe des Nègres too close.’
‘I doubt it,’ Ramage said. ‘We can see it and we are further away. They must be able to make out the cliffs without any trouble.’
At that moment there was a flash from the direction of the Achille and, a few moments later, the thud of a gun going off.
‘They’re firing at the Scourge with a sternchaser,’ Ramage said. ‘Silly fellows – they’ll lose their night vision and there’s not much chance of hitting the brig.’
‘Aye, but let’s hope she doesn’t suddenly round up and give the brig a broadside,’ Southwick said.
‘I hope Bennett is paying attention to the fall of shot,’ Ramage said. ‘He’s about a mile away from her, as best I can estimate, and the brig must appear a small target from the Achille. But, as you say, she might suddenly round up.’
‘One thing about it, firing a broadside means the flash would dazzle them for several minutes: they’d find it hard to distinguish the cliffs – and, with a bit of luck,’ Southwick added, ‘they’d blunder into us before they can see properly again.’
‘Don’t forget we’d be dazzled too,’ Ramage said. ‘Remember to keep one eye shut if she does start firing broadsides: that’s the only way you’ll keep any sort of night vision. Once she’s alongside us it doesn’t matter,’ he added grimly. ‘Then whoever fires fastest wins!’
There was another flash as the Achille fired a second stern-chaser. ‘Well,’ Southwick muttered, ‘as long as she’s playing games with her sternchasers, she’s not worrying about firing broadsides.’