Ramage's Diamond
Page 24
Fifteen minutes later the Juno had rounded up off the south side of the Rock and dropped anchor again, gathering sternway under a backed foretopsail, so that the cable thundered out through the starboard hawse, smoking with the friction.
As soon as Southwick signalled from the fo’c’sle how much cable had been veered, Ramage gave another series of orders which braced round the yards so that the Juno gathered way again and sailed a short distance before the foretopsail was backed once more and the larboard anchor let go as the Juno went astern in yet another sternboard. Within minutes the topmen were furling all the sails and the frigate was riding to her two anchors, the cables making an angle of forty-five degrees.
The Juno was now lying not quite parallel with the face of the cliff fifty yards away. The two cutters were going to have to pull her stern round towards the cliff while the launch was rowed astern to lay out the spare anchor that would hold her there in position. It was the lightest anchor in the ship and one which, in an emergency could be slipped and left behind.
Southwick came striding aft to join Ramage on the quarterdeck, and he wore the contented grin that Ramage knew from long experience meant that he approved of the way his captain had handled the ship. ‘Now to get those cutters towing,’ he said gleefully, rubbing his hands. He looked up and commented: ‘Y’know, sir, that’s a damned tall cliff!’
‘I wish you’d mentioned that before,’ Ramage said sarcastically. ‘It had almost escaped my attention.’
‘Can’t see Aitken up there yet.’
‘Remember Pythagoras,’ Ramage said. ‘You’re looking up the perpendicular side of what that poor beggar is scrambling up the hypotenuse!’
‘They’re used to it, these Scotsmen,’ Southwick said, blithely ignoring Ramage’s bad temper. ‘All mountains in Scotland – goats and sheep and haggises, climbing all the time, they are. Especially the haggises,’ he added before Ramage could correct him, ‘very nimble they are, Aitken tells me.’
Ramage shook his head despairingly. ‘Neither the Good Lord nor the First Lord has seen fit to spare me from a Master who is so damnably cheerful first thing in the morning. However, Mr Southwick, oblige me by putting those cutters to work: I have to lay this ship alongside that cliff before I can settle down to a leisurely breakfast.’
As soon as the men in the two cutters began rowing with the oars double-banked, Ramage ordered the quartermaster to put the wheel over; there might be enough current to give the ship a sheer larboard, which would help the oarsmen. Sure enough the frigate slowly swung in towards the cliff face, and the coxswains of both boats hurried their men to take up the slack.
Now it was the turn of the men in the waiting launch. The anchor was slung beneath the boat and the cable on the quarterdeck led down to it through the sternchase port. The oars were double-banked and the coxswain waited ready. Ramage gave the signal and the launch began to move away, heading almost directly astern of the Juno. Men on the quarterdeck slowly fed the cable through the port, careful to let out enough to help the launch, but not so much that the heavy rope hung down in too large a curve.
Southwick now had men bracing the yards round so they were as nearly fore and aft as possible. The Juno was going to end up so close to the cliff that the larboard ends of the yards – the mainyard overhung the ship’s side by twenty-three feet – might otherwise foul the Rock.
Having done that the Master began supervising the rigging out of the lower studding sail booms on the larboard side. There were three of them, one abreast each mast, and they were shipped and then swung out at right angles from the ship’s side at deck level, the outer ends held by topping lifts, with guys holding them fore and aft. Normally used to hold out the foot of the lower studding sails, they would now, Ramage hoped, act against the cliff face when they began hoisting the jackstay.
The launch was almost in position astern and Ramage waited with the speaking trumpet in his hand. If only he could see right down into the water he would know whether the anchor fell so that the cable led over a bank of sharp coral. If he waited another two or three minutes the launch might have moved slightly crabwise so that the cable would miss it. He shrugged his shoulders and hailed through the trumpet. He saw men slashing the strop holding the anchor and a few moments later the boat began bobbing about, floating higher as if it was suddenly freed of the weight of the anchor and the pull of cable, more of which snaked out through the port.
Southwick was already shouting to the two cutters to return to the ship, his voice echoing back from the cliff face. With the Juno now moored fore and aft parallel with the cliff and forty yards from it, there was little more to do until Aitken arrived at the top of the Rock – the top of the cliff, rather, Ramage corrected himself, remembering the double slope back from the cliff top to the peak of the Rock.
The Master was bustling round amidships, checking the cable that was going to be the jackstay, glaring at the voyol block as though it was an unruly dog, kicking at the five-inch rope that would eventually be rove through the two single blocks to make a gun tackle. Watching him, Ramage knew that he was worried about his next job. It took a lot to ruffle Southwick – many French broadsides, boarding enemy ships, and a full hurricane had so far failed, to Ramage’s certain knowledge. No, Southwick was worried now because he was faced with a tricky task that was far beyond the scope of ordinary seamanship: he and his captain were planning by guess rather than knowledge, and Southwick’s only fear was that the whole jackstay system might not work; that they would fail to get the guns to the top of the Rock. Well, Ramage thought, the old man must know that his captain is keeping him company; in fact they should be holding hands and comforting each other.
For the next half an hour he and Southwick had the men adjusting the three cables, veering a little on the starboard anchor cable and taking in a little on the larboard, so the Juno edged over a little more towards the cliff, and then taking up on the stern anchor so that she came away again. When they were ready, veering the stern cable would give the final adjustment.
They had just finished that when they heard a hail from high above and saw Aitken’s tiny figure waving a speaking trumpet. A few moments later he was joined by other men, and Southwick shouted for a crew to man the jolly boat, which had returned to the ship an hour earlier.
Ramage watched Aitken and his men through a telescope. They were holding a small object and securing a line to it. A rock, no doubt, to make sure the line they were going to lower as a messenger would not blow in the wind and snag on a bush or a jutting piece of rock.
He saw Aitken suddenly bend back and then jerk forward, and a moment later a black speck began falling through the air, down towards the Juno’s deck, trailing behind it what seemed from this distance to be a black thread. It fell into the sea half-way between the ship and the cliff and the jolly boat leapt forward to grab it before it swung back through the water against the foot of the cliff, and brought it back to the Juno.
The jackstay was very heavy, so much so that the Juno’s capstan would be needed to hoist it up the cliff. The only way to do that, Ramage had calculated, was to use the tackle that would eventually haul the gun up the jackstay. But to begin with, until the tackle was completely rigged, Aitken’s men were going to have to pull the first block and rope up to the top of the cliff.
Southwick supervised the men securing the block and rope to the line thrown down from the cliff, and then took the speaking trumpet and gave a stentorian bellow to Aitken. The line tautened and seamen eased the block and the heavier rope over the side and slowly, agonizingly slowly it seemed to Ramage, it began to rise as Aitken’s men hauled away. Their task aloft was made harder by the need to keep some tension on the heavier rope to make sure that it did not swing into the cliff, where the block might jam in one of the fissures.
Finally the block and the heavier rope reached the top and Ramage watched through the telescope as men reached out to grab it. Quickly they took off the light line and made the block fast round a p
rotruding rock, the three parts of the rope forming the upper end of the purchase leading back down in a gentle curve to the Juno’s deck.
Southwick came up, rubbing his hands. ‘Well, so much for the tackle, sir. The block is made up to the cable, and we can start hoisting whenever you give the word.’
Ramage looked forward to see that the hauling part, or fall, of the tackle was now led through a snatch block and then round the capstan and that men were waiting at the bars. The moment he gave the word they would start turning and the tackle would slowly hoist the heavy cable for the jackstay up towards Aitken.
‘It’s going to be easy getting the cable up,’ Ramage said doubtfully, ‘but I’m wondering how we are going to get the block at our end down again. They’ll secure a heavy rock to it, I know, but if it starts twisting or jams against something on the cliff face–’
He did not complete the sentence because Southwick knew the risk. It was gun tackle pure and simple, and excellent so long as there was a strain on the block at either end. But once the strain was released the parts of the rope tended to twist, and in doing so spun any block that was not secure, in this case the lower one that had to be brought down to the Juno’s deck again once the cable had been hoisted to the top.
‘Leave it to Aitken, sir,’ Southwick said. ‘If he can get himself and his men up there, I’m sure he’ll get that block down!’
Ramage nodded ruefully: it was not hard to make a decision because there was no choice, and for once he was thankful. ‘Very well, let’s see those men stepping out round the capstan!’
The capstan combined with the mechanical advantage of the gun tackle made the men’s task easier, but before they finished they would have hoisted the best part of a ton up the cliff, since a hundred fathoms of ten-inch cable-laid rope weighed nineteen hundredweight. But a tackle was one of the best examples that Ramage knew of the old adage that ‘You never get anything for nothing’. The three parts of the purchase reduced the amount of effort required to lift the cable, but it also meant that the lower block moved upwards much more slowly. The cable crawled and before it was a quarter of the way up the cliff face Ramage would have sworn it was not moving if he had not seen the seamen amidships hauling the rope clear as it came off the capstan and coiling it down.
‘You must be hungry, sir,’ Southwick said tactfully. ‘It’ll be an hour before there’s much sign of progress here: more than time for you to have some breakfast.’
Ramage’s stomach was so knotted from the strain he had been under since dawn that it would be hard to force down any food, but he remembered the contempt he had felt, as a very young lieutenant, when he saw nervous captains fussing round on deck unnecessarily. Well, he had to admit that Nicolas Ramage was giving a very good imitation of a nervous captain, and Southwick’s reminder that he had not eaten for many hours gave him a good excuse to go below.
A sharp rapping on the door woke him and Southwick came into the cabin. When he saw Ramage sprawled on the settee and rubbing his eyes he said apologetically: ‘Sorry, sir, I didn’t know you were asleep.’
‘Just dozed off,’ Ramage said blearily. ‘I sat down for a moment and–’ he took out his watch. ‘Why, that was an hour ago!’
‘You’ve had less sleep than any of us,’ Southwick commented sympathetically. ‘Anyway, sir, the jackstay is rigged! Aitken has his end of the cable secure round a rock and our end is led to the capstan ready. We’re just waiting for Aitken to send down the block of the gun tackle.’
With that the Master left the cabin and Ramage went through to the bed place to wash his face. The cabin was hot and stuffy since there was little or no wind and the sun was getting high with some strength in it. He paused for a moment as he dried his face. They had taken two hours up to now, and judging by the time needed to get the jackstay up the cliff it would require three or four hours to sway up the first gun. If they finished by nightfall there would be tomorrow morning to get up the second gun and both carriages. After that, with the Juno safely back at her original anchorage, they were going to have to get another gun to the ledge half-way up the Rock on the other side. Could it be done before the French convoy arrived? If the French arrived too soon, all this work would be in vain. He shrugged his shoulders and finished drying his face. Admiral Davis might also arrive too soon and, if he disapproved, bring everything to a stop…
He arrived on the quarterdeck to find Southwick lying on his back, holding the telescope to his eye.
‘Almost broke my neck trying to see what’s happening up there, sir,’ he explained as Ramage stared down at him. ‘Much more comfortable lying down like this. Aitken has trouble. They’ve tied a heavy rock round the block and lashed both to a strop which should slide down the jackstay clear of the cliff, but I think the block keeps twisting. They shouted to us to haul it back again… Hmm, bless my soul!’ he exclaimed. ‘Why, they’re signalling to start it off again.’ He jumped up to make sure Lacey was paying out the rope, looked aloft and said: ‘Now there’s a man sitting in the strop overhauling the rope as he comes down!’
Ramage snatched a telescope from the binnacle drawer and stretched out on the deck. There was indeed someone in the strop, sitting like a child on a swing, and pulling down on one part of the rope to make it run through the sheaves more easily and help the rock work better, like the weight of a grandfather clock. It was a small person, that much was clear, and wearing white trousers and a short jacket. He raised himself on one elbow and asked Southwick as casually as he could: ‘Did Orsini go with Aitken?’
‘Yes, sir,’ the Master said, ‘in fact I think that’s him sitting up there.’
If the boy slipped out of the strop he would fall 500 feet. Why did Aitken let him do it? There was little doubt that Paolo had volunteered – indeed, he might well have suggested the whole thing in the first place – but why the devil did Aitken let him? A moment later he told himself coldly that someone had to do it; no officer should ask a seamen to do something he would not risk himself, and Paolo was a midshipman. Aitken had acted perfectly correctly. He would have asked for volunteers, and quite properly chosen the midshipman in preference to one of the seamen; it was a good lesson to young potential leaders. He could only hope that Paolo’s letters to his aunt were not too explicit – he could imagine Gianna’s reaction to Paolo’s description of coming down the side of a 500-foot cliff sitting in a strop.
It took half an hour for the boy to get down to the ship’s deck, and Ramage was relieved to see that he was in fact lashed into the strop. Eager seamen undid the lashing and as they waited for him to jump down the last couple of feet to the deck the boy lurched and pitched forward.
As the men hurried to pick him up, Ramage saw from the quarterdeck that the boy’s body was held rigid, his buttock and thigh muscles cramped by sitting on the thin rope of the strop. Bowen ran forward and began massaging the muscles of his thighs and Ramage decided to wait for Paolo to report to him. He had been scrupulous so far in avoiding favouritism and all that mattered was that the boy was safely on the Juno’s deck, even if he had a sore backside.
Five minutes later Paolo reported to him on the quarterdeck. He could still not stand upright but his eyes were sparkling. ‘Mr Aitken’s compliments, sir, and everything is ready at the top of the cliff.’
‘It took you long enough to get down to tell me,’ Ramage said gruffly, recalling Gianna’s injunction that he was ‘not to spoil the boy’.
‘I know, sir,’ Paolo said apologetically, ‘but the rope made my hands rather sore.’
‘Show me,’ Ramage said, and the boy held his hands out, palms uppermost. They were raw. ‘Yes, they are a little chafed: ask Mr Bowen to put some ointment on them.’
‘He’s going to, sir, but I wanted to report to you first.’
Ramage nodded gravely, feeling proud of the boy and noticing the approval of Southwick, who was standing nearby. ‘Now, has Mr Aitken found a clear way to parbuckle the guns up the last section of the top of the Rock?’
‘Very well, now run along and get those hands dressed.’
The jackstay was sagging badly, and hoisting the gun might increase the sag so much that the gun would swing in too close to the cliff for safety. Ramage had anticipated that this would happen, and the time had now come to tighten the cable.
He turned to Southwick, who was obviously still absorbed with the details of Orsini’s report. ‘The stun’sail booms are ready?’
‘Aye, aye, sir, and I’ve doubled up on the topping lifts and guys, as you suggested.’
‘Very well, let’s start heaving in the jackstay.’
Southwick called for men as the two of them walked to the capstan. The cable forming the jackstay came down from the clifftop and led through a block shackled to the deck on the larboard side. From there it was led to the mainmast and made fast, but it could be tightened by clapping a purchase on it and leading the fall to the capstan, making it fast to the mast again when it was tight enough.
It took ten minutes to prepare everything and as soon as Southwick passed the order the fiddler began a tune and the men heaved at the capstan bars. Slowly the sagging jackstay tautened, the men slowing down with the effort as the strain came on the anchor cables.
Ramage walked to the bulwark and watched the cliff face, which was gradually getting nearer. Foot by foot the jackstay pulled the Juno bodily towards the cliff as it tautened until the outboard end of the stun’sail boom of the mainmast was almost touching the rock. He looked upwards at the jackstay soaring aloft in a gentle curve, with the gun tackle sagging beneath it. He pictured the jackstay with the weight of the gun running up it, suspended from the voyol block. That weight would pull the Juno a little closer to the cliff. Just enough to bring the booms against the Rock.