Ramage and the Dido

by Dudley Pope

  ‘Come on,’ Ramage called, ‘let’s get some fires started amidships.’ He noticed that one of his men was crumpled up on the deck, obviously hit by a musket ball, and then Jackson shouted:

  ‘Here they come!’

  Ramage just had time to see a group of Frenchmen running along the gangway each side, heading towards them, cutlass blades reflecting in the flash of muskets and pistols. By now many more men, including Gilbert, Louis, Auguste and Albert, had joined him and Ramage led them along the starboard gangway, to meet the French halfway.

  The fire from the muskets and pistols had stopped: obviously the French were not going to stop and reload, so now it would be a fight with cutlasses and boarding pikes – except that the Didos had not yet fired their pistols. How many Frenchmen were there? It was difficult to distinguish in the darkness. How many were trying to drive off the Didos attacking from aft? Impossible to say. Perhaps fifty, maybe more. The Didos had the slight temporary advantage that the French would be sleepy, just roused out of their hammocks, but they would soon be wide awake: there was nothing like a few gunshots to get rid of sleepiness.

  Ramage cocked the pistols as he ran, cursing as he bumped into various projections which all seemed to have been fitted shin-high. He found himself ahead of the others but heard Jackson shouting at them to hurry.

  Then the first of the French were only a few feet away, running towards him shouting at the tops of their voices. Ramage stopped and raised his pistols, aiming into the midst of the mass. He squeezed the triggers and the twin flash of them firing blinded him momentarily.

  And then the French were on him. He threw away the pistols and wrenched his sword from its sheath and at the same time Jackson was alongside him, shouting defiance and slashing with his cutlass. Ramage sliced at a boarding pike jabbing at him and then ducked backwards to avoid a swinging cutlass. There was only the starlight now, apart from the occasional flash of a pistol or musket, and he found himself fighting shadows.

  He felt rather than saw a cutlass blade rip his right sleeve and immediately stabbed into the darkness with his sword. He felt the blade entering flesh and heard a shriek of pain. Then behind him he heard a roar as Southwick joined the fight, and Ramage could imagine him twirling his sword two-handed, his white hair flying.

  By now more Didos were running along the gangway to join him and the French were halted. He cut at a shadowy Frenchman and heard a grunt as the man collapsed. He recognised a stream of French curses as coming from Auguste and Gilbert. Then he glanced forward for a moment and saw that a small fire had been started by the forebitts and the wind was fanning it.

  It was also throwing a flickering light on the Frenchmen, and Ramage jabbed again at a bearded and wild-eyed man who was slashing away with his cutlass with all the abandon of a frenzied axeman chopping at a tree trunk. The man collapsed like a pricked bladder, and Ramage guessed he had been drunk.

  There was now a lot of shouting from aft, and Ramage guessed that the Didos who had boarded from aft had now sorted themselves out and were driving the French back so that they could start some fires. Another glance forward showed at least two more fires had been started, one against the beakhead bulkhead and another by the knightheads. And out of the corner of his eye he saw men scrambling up the foreshrouds – the topmen whose job was to start fires aloft among the sails.

  All at once the French rallied and fought their way a few feet along the gangway, shouting and slashing with cutlasses. For a minute or two Jackson and his men were driven back, and Ramage and Southwick found themselves fighting side by side, surrounded by Frenchmen. Cutlass clanged against cutlass, men grunted and shouted, and for a moment Ramage thought he and the old master would be overwhelmed, but suddenly Jackson appeared out of the darkness with Rossi and Stafford, all of them shouting ‘Dido’ at the tops of their voices, to distinguish themselves in the darkness.

  By now the flickering of fires forward was lighting up the Frenchmen and Ramage was able to see that there were several bodies lying on the gangway. There was a spurt of pistol fire from aft as the other Didos fired and then attacked with cutlasses and boarding pikes.

  How many men were there fighting on the gangways? Ramage estimated about twenty-five French and the same number of British were fighting on this side, and guessed an equal number were fighting it out on the larboard gangway. But the important thing was that fires were being started: as the French were being held on the gangways, the men were able to set fire to the greased cloths and, any moment now, the sails.

  The fire by the forebitts was now big enough to start a glow which lit the underside of the rigging and forecourse; Ramage could make out the belfry and the galley chimney. The fire, he thought grimly, had taken a good hold and beneath it – admittedly many feet away in the bowels of the ship – was the magazine.

  Ramage parried a sudden attack from a Frenchman wielding a cutlass like a scythe and slashed him across the throat. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Southwick launch himself at a group of Frenchmen, his great sword jerking in front of him like a flail.

  He could again distinguish Jackson, Rossi and Stafford: they had been joined by Gilbert, Louis, Albert and Auguste, and they were making concentrated attacks where the Frenchmen seemed thickest, keeping up a constant cry of ‘Dido’.

  Just then Ramage saw that the great forecourse above his head was now ablaze: the wind was spreading the flames and it was burning like the wick of a gigantic lantern, beginning to throw strong shadows the length of the ship. He watched a burning piece of the sail float down and land on the deck, still aflame. While that was happening flames were running up the rigging from the deck as they got a grip on the tarred rope, and Ramage hoped the topmen would find a way down without burning themselves.

  How long would it take the French to realise they were in greater danger from the fires than the boarders? What would they do? Anyone trying to put out fires would be attacked by boarders, yet their attempt to deal with the boarders was failing.

  As if to emphasise that, Ramage found the Frenchmen in front of him were being driven back along the gangway: step by step they were going back aft, although soon they would back into their comrades fighting off the Didos who had boarded aft. A quick glance showed at least half a dozen fires were now burning on the fo’c’sle, and the blaze by the forebitts had really taken hold, spreading along the deck planking. The forebitts themselves were now burning, looking like tree stumps.

  If only they could drive the Frenchmen away from the main rigging, so that topmen could get up to set the maincourse alight. Just as the thought occurred, Ramage saw flames spreading along the mizen topsail – men must have got aloft there as soon as anyone got on board, and with the wind acting as a bellows the flames were spreading rapidly.

  Gradually it was getting light on board the Achille as flames spread forward and aloft: the wind was freshening, as if allying itself with the British, and Ramage could smell the burning and could see smoke wreathing itself in the flames.

  With a desperate howl a group of Frenchmen tried to break through to the fo’c’sle, obviously intent on getting at the fire round the forebitts, but the Didos beat them back, driving them even further aft. By now they were abaft the mainshrouds, and Ramage saw some of his men run from forward, weave their way through the group of men fighting, and scramble hand over hand up the ratlines.

  He was just plunging back into the fight when he was startled to see both Jackson and Stafford break away and run forward. Ramage paused a moment to watch them and then saw that they had run to a large piece of blazing foresail, which had just fallen to the deck. Slashing at it with their cutlasses, they sliced away burning sections and spread them out over the deck to start more fires.

  By the time Ramage looked aft again to the maincourse, he saw it was now ablaze and the topmen were scrambling back along the footropes to safety. The wind was spreading the fire and Ramage guessed that the flames would run up the rigging and set the topmast alight.

  B
oth the forecourse and the maincourse were now well ablaze and the mizen topsail was now burning. He could see the topmen who had set that sail alight now scrambling down the mizen ratlines. The three blazing sails looked like fiery crosses and Ramage imagined what a fine sight they must make from the Dido: Aitken and his men would have no doubt about the success of the operation so far.

  He could hear the crackling of flames above the shouting and clanging of cutlasses, and wind eddies were now bringing smoke from the burning sails down to deck level. He just had time to ward off a boarding pike wielded by a huge Frenchman and was about to lunge at him with his sword when the man collapsed and a jubilant Orsini, waving a bloodstained cutlass, shouted: ‘Not many left now!’

  Nor were there: the Didos were forcing the Frenchmen aft, past the mainshrouds and into the arms of the men who had boarded from aft: the French were caught in between. And, almost more important, Ramage saw that other Didos following up the boarders were crouching down, setting new fires.

  For a moment he thought of the French captain: the man would be in agony, seeing his ship slowly begin to blaze, set on fire by an enemy he could not dislodge. And he must be cursing at having put ashore some of his men: he would now be glad of anyone who could wield a cutlass or stab with a pike.

  Southwick was gesticulating aloft and Ramage looked up to see that the great foreyard itself was now on fire, the dry wood obviously set ablaze by the burning canvas. Then he noticed that flames or sparks had set fire to the next sail: the foretopsail was now beginning to burn.

  There were now twenty or more fires burning on the fo’c’sle: the burning sail spread about by Jackson and Stafford had started three or four others, and the original one round the forebitts had spread across twelve feet or more of deck, lapping at the foot of the foremast like flaming waves at a mangrove root.

  The fires, Ramage realised, were more than the French could put out without using a fire engine: no buckets would douse the flames. And the fire engine was not on deck: it would take them ten minutes to manhandle it up from below.

  Just at that moment the whole maincourse dropped to the deck as the ropebands burned through along with the gaskets. The blazing mass of canvas blanketed almost the whole width of the ship, and at that moment Ramage knew the ship was doomed: the canvas was a massive torch. The flames lit up the whole ship, and nothing now could save her.

  The time had come to save the Didos. Already the French were breaking off the fight and dashing to the blazing sail, wrenching at the unburned parts in a hopeless attempt to pull them clear. But the sail was enormous: it lay across the deck like a sinuous fiery dragon, spurting flame and sparks.

  The fires were now crackling like burning bracken, and the Achille was lit up as though by a dozen small suns. The Frenchmen who had been fighting on the gangway were now all struggling with the burning sail, and the Didos were watching them.

  ‘Why don’t we attack ‘em?’ bawled Southwick.

  ‘It’s time for us to go,’ Ramage shouted back. ‘The fires have taken a good hold.’

  With that he shouted: ‘Didos – to the boats!’

  The nearest men heard him and began to make their way forward, ready to climb down into the boats. What about the boarding parties aft – would they be able to see that the forward parties were withdrawing? He could not risk it, and looked round for Orsini.

  ‘Can you get through to the after parties and tell them to withdraw? At once!’

  ‘Aye aye, sir,’ said Orsini, delighted at being given a special task. There was so much movement amidships that he saw no difficulty getting through in the confusion.

  As he walked forward Ramage was surprised at how successful his men had been in setting fires. Apart from the big blazes where the foresail had dropped down and round the forebitts, there were many more smaller ones where flames had got a firm grip on woodwork. A six-foot section of the bulwark was now burning fiercely in one place and a twelve-foot section in another. The whole deck was burning at the foot of the belfry and the galley chimney stood up amid a sea of flames.

  The boarders were now climbing down into the boats, and Ramage reflected on how he had imagined this episode might have ended: that the French would drive them back into the boats amid a withering fire of musketry. Instead the men were boarding with as little concern as they had shown when they first boarded the boats from the Dido.

  He and Southwick had looked at the bodies left on the gangway. Five Didos were dead, and he saw that four wounded were being helped down into the boats. There were many French dead on the section of the gangway where they had been fighting. There were more aft. How many of the after boarding parties had lost their lives?

  Finally the last of the men had scrambled off the Marine’s walk and the beakhead, and Ramage said to Southwick: ‘It’s our turn now.’

  ‘Not as agile as I was,’ grunted the old master as he clambered through the headrails, ‘and this blasted scabbard hooks in everything.’

  ‘At least we can see this time,’ Ramage said. When they had climbed up it had been by the light of the stars, which were often hidden by clouds. Now every detail showed up in the light of the flames. In fact, Ramage thought, they add an urgency to everything: the flames must now be spreading down below, making an octopus-like progress towards the magazine.

  And when they reached the magazine, he thought grimly, we all want to be at least half a mile away: the explosion will tear the Achille apart and scatter the wreckage like chaff before the wind.

  And, as he scrambled into the launch, Jackson giving him a helping hand, he realised the wind had freshened: the boats were pitching and rolling as the waves hit the Achille and swirled back. A wind…the bellows that would spread all those fires. He glanced up and was startled at the view from this angle: the burning sails were making great crosses of fire, and the foreyard was well ablaze. Any moment the slings and jeers would burn through and it would come crashing down, like the gates of hell opening.

  The gates of hell…he had thought of that because the whole scene was unreal. Now the Achille was mottled with so many fires that even if they had a couple of fire engines working, as well as all the washdeck pumps, they could never control half of them.

  ‘Shove off,’ Ramage ordered Jackson, and he commented to Southwick, who was alongside him in the pinnace: ‘It’s a terrible sight.’

  ‘Aye, it is that. The French captain must be going mad – he hasn’t even got the fire engine on deck.’

  ‘He never expected an attack like this. He didn’t even expect boarders, judging from the lack of sentries.’

  ‘What did he expect us to do – stay on board playing cards and drinking gin?’

  ‘Apparently,’ Ramage said with a grin. ‘I think he made the mistake of thinking that because he was stuck on a rock then we wouldn’t make a move, either. Or else – more than likely – he knows his ship is finished and assumed we knew, so that we wouldn’t try anything.’

  ‘You mean we might have done all this–’ Southwick waved towards the burning ship, ‘–for nothing?’

  ‘It’s a possibility,’ Ramage said. ‘But it wasn’t a risk I could take. It seemed to me that fetching shipwrights from Fort Royal, apart from using their own carpenters, could put the ship to rights and she could be towed off. And that’s what the admiral would think.’

  ‘Well, we’ve made a thorough job of it. Ah, there are some boats – one, two, three. The after boarding party has got away. Just look how those flames are lighting up the Dido!’

  By now, as the launch and pinnace were rowed back, the seventy-four showed up in the darkness as though someone was shining a huge lantern on her: the sails seemed luminous and the rigging showed up like netting, the bowsprit and jib-boom jutting out like a vast fishing rod.

  Jackson steered the launch back to the Dido, with the other boats following, and soon Ramage was climbing back on board. Once on deck he turned to look at the Achille and she was a terrible sight: most striking were the yards,
all of which had now caught fire, and all the rigging staying the masts was burning as thin red lines pointing up into the sky. The whole of the fo’c’sle now seemed ablaze and there was a big fire amidships, where the maincourse had fallen.

  In the light of the flames he could just distinguish the other three boats approaching the Dido, the blades of the oars flashing as they were lifted out of the water. How many casualties had there been among the after boarding parties? He only hoped Orsini was safe.

  ‘A terrible sight, sir,’ said Aitken, who had been waiting at the entryport. ‘You made a perfect job of it.’

  ‘Yes, they can’t save her now. The wind freshened at just the right moment – it was as though we had a thousand bellows at work.’

  ‘Many casualties, sir?’

  ‘Five dead in our party and four wounded. We left the dead on board. I’ll give you their names presently.’

  The other three boats were soon alongside and the excited Kenton was the first on board, his face twisting into a delighted smile as he greeted Ramage. ‘Well, you got your end burning first, sir, but we soon caught up!’

  ‘How many men did you lose?’ Ramage asked soberly.

  ‘Seven dead and five wounded, sir.’

  ‘Is Orsini with you?’

  ‘Yes, sir, he’s helping get the wounded on board.’

  At that moment Kenton turned and looked at the Achille, seeing her clearly for the first time from the height of the Dido’s deck. ‘Ye Gods, just look at her. Those masts and yards, they look like great crosses – burning on her grave.’

  The four officers stood and watched, silenced by the sheer horror of what they were seeing. Finally Southwick said: ‘Her magazine will go up any minute now.’