Ramage's Signal (24 page)

Blackstrapped with a French convoy! Well, it would make an amusing story when told in the Green Room at Plymouth or by the naval members of Boodle's or White's, but for the moment he could only hope that Orsini knew the finer shades of French obscenities and Martin would not hesitate to let drive across a laggard's bow or stern with one of those swivels.

He opened a drawer and looked for the list of French and Spanish ships drawn up by Orsini. Fifteen ships in all, and the
Passe Partout
by far the smallest, so crossing out her original crew made little difference. Fourteen ships, then. Slowly he added up the masters, officers and seamen, sometimes pausing to make sure of one of Orsini's hurriedly written figures. Yes, the fourteen ships had at least two hundred men by the time you added in the extras, because Orsini had noted down only the men he had actually seen (and one could be sure there were always several more below), plus the forty or so from the garrison of the semaphore station and the
Passe Partout
already on board the
Calypso.

He would need fifty men to guard two hundred and fifty or so prisoners, and none of these could be topmen or idlers. That also meant fifty fewer available as prize crews. No, he had been right the first time; right when he had sent the signal from Foix. He could understand why Aitken, Kenton and Southwick were puzzled.

He put the parallel rulers down on the chart with the top edge passing through Southwick's noon position and then moved them crabwise across to the destination. If only this wind direction would hold. It was increasing nicely—not enough to scare the timid masters into premature reefing and furling, but giving signs of settling in for the night.

Ramage was vaguely conscious of boots clattering down the companion-way, and a few moments later the sentry knocked on the door and called: “Mr Southwick, sir.”

“Send him in,” Ramage answered, removing the weights and letting the chart roll up. He put the parallel rulers away, and while Southwick acknowledged his gesture and sat down on the settee, Ramage closed the log.

“Well, Mr Southwick?” Ramage knew the old Master had come down just for a chat, but he always had an excuse and Ramage waited to see what it was.

Southwick fished a piece of paper from his pocket. “The log, sir, I'm afraid it's not up to date: the expenditure of powder and shot was not entered. I have the figures here.”

Ramage took the paper. “Nor was the departure in a French tartane of the Captain, acting Third Lieutenant, Midshipman and five seamen, and the Captain's subsequent return.”

Southwick grinned and admitted: “I wasn't sure how you wanted to deal with that, sir. It so happens, if you'll look just below the reference to the shortage of salt beef in that cask, there is space enough to enter the departure, and the Captain's return would be the last entry, after this one about expenditure of powder and shot.”

“You'd better enter it all,” Ramage said. “Their Lordships may raise their eyebrows at my brief absence, but it was in a good cause!”

Southwick scratched his head in a gesture Ramage knew so well that he could guess what the old man was going to say.

“Beats me how you knew that privateer schooner, the
Magpie,
was going to turn out to be sailed by Algerines.”

“I didn't,” Ramage said, surprised.

“Then why did you go in the
Passe Partout,
sir?”

“I didn't have time to tell Martin how to negotiate with a British privateer—it meant persuading them to let several prizes sail away.”

“Martin could have gone on board and torn up the letter of marque,” Southwick said grimly.

“That wouldn't have helped. There are not many British ships of war to inspect it, and if the French catch a British privateer I doubt that they care much about letters of marque.”

“But you could have let Aitken go off in the
Passe Partout,
” the Master persisted.

“I could, but he learned more by being left in command of the
Calypso.
He handled her very well.”

Southwick nodded. “Especially the way he sank the
Magpie.
But he worries too much.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, when you hoisted number sixteen, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to tack up to you in time.”

“So was I,” Ramage said grimly. “In fact, if the
Magpie
hadn't had her masts go by the board …”

“But she did: I was telling Aitken that you'd do something, and you did.”

Ramage sighed at the thought of the thin line by which his life was at times suspended: a thin line of faith that he could perform miracles. “Don't depend on it. We were lucky this time, but if those Algerines had been sailing the ship for another couple of months it would have been a different story.”

“Yes, sir,” Southwick said comfortably, “and we are all thankful they weren't. How long before you'll give young Orsini command of the
Passe Partout?
”

“I was going to leave Martin with him tonight, to hold his hand if necessary in the dark, and launch him off on his own tomorrow.”

“I'll pack up his quadrant, tables and glass: he didn't have time to take them with him.”

“It seems unfair to Martin,” Ramage said, having second thoughts.

Southwick's eyes twinkled as he said casually, “I don't expect she'll be the only prize we'll take. I'd have thought that a tartane rated a midshipman's command, not a lieutenant's!”

“It sounds to me as though you are trying to exercise patronage on behalf of the Marchesa.”

Southwick gave a bellow of laughter. “That's about it! Anyway, I'd like to be. She'd have enjoyed watching the
Magpie
business.”

“From the
Calypso.
”

“No, sir, from the
Passe Partout,
” Southwick corrected him with mock severity. “You haven't seen her for so long you've forgotten what she's like when there's a whiff of action in the air.”

Ramage hadn't forgotten, but it had been so long since he had seen her that now memories brought pain rather than pleasure.

Southwick pointed at the chart which was still lying curled up on Ramage's desk. “If this wind holds, we should sight land before noon the day after tomorrow, sir.”

“That's some ‘if.' When does the wind stay in the same direction for more than a few hours in this part of the world?”

“When it's blowing a
mistral
or Levanter,” Southwick reminded him.

Next day the
Passe Partout
came close to the
Calypso
and one of the frigate's boats took off Martin and brought Paolo on board the
Calypso
to receive his orders and collect his navigational equipment. Before he was taken back to the tartane Ramage sent for him and gave him his official orders. They were brief and written in the stylized form laid down by the Admiralty.

By Nicholas Ramage, Captain and commanding officer of His Majesty's frigate
Calypso

To Paolo Orsini, Midshipman, hereby appointed to the
Passe Partout,
prize to the
Calypso
frigate.

By virtue of the power and authority to me given, I do hereby constitute and appoint you midshipman in command of the tartane
Passe Partout,
prize to His Majesty's frigate
Calypso,
willing and requiring you forthwith to go on board, and take upon you the charge and command of her accordingly; strictly charging and commanding all the petty officers and company … to behave themselves jointly and severally … And you likewise to observe and execute as well the General Printed Instructions, and such orders and directions you shall from time to time receive from your captain … hereof nor you nor any of you may fail, as you will answer the contrary at your Peril; and for so doing this shall be your warrant.

The document was then dated, Ramage's seal impressed on it, and his signature added, and for the first time in his life Paolo commanded a ship and was responsible for the behaviour of every man on board.

When the Captain gave it to him, Paolo read it and found no difficulty in understanding the neat handwriting of the Captain's clerk, but was intimidated by the wording. He read the last paragraph yet again, this time aloud—”hereof nor you nor any of you may fail, as you will answer to the contrary at your Peril …”

He looked at Ramage, not realizing that this was standard wording. “But, sir, this last part …” It seemed very unreasonable of the Captain to be so hard on him—presumably because

… Well, he was not sure quite why.

“‘At your Peril,' eh? That frightens you, I expect.”

“Yes, sir; after all …”

“Well, you are in good company, my lad; every naval officer given command of
anything
has that in his orders. Commanders-in-chief, commodores, captains, lieutenants—even midshipmen in command of captured tartanes.”

“You mean, sir,
your
orders say the same?”

“The same and a lot more.”

At that moment Paolo understood why the commanding officer was always such a remote figure; why the attitude of the seamen, for instance, had been different where Martin was concerned on board the
Passe Partout:
they were more reserved, keeping a distance between them. Now, Paolo realized, he had—however temporarily—crossed the line separating carefree midshipmen skylarking on board without any papers or passing any examinations from officers who must not fail without “answering to the contrary.”

He saw Ramage was watching him.

“Nothing has changed,” Ramage said quietly. “Always do what you think is right, be just, don't give an order you would not carry out yourself and you won't fail. And once you've made up your mind,
do
it. Hesitation and indecision loses battles—and reputations.”

“Like you did not hesitate when you jumped on board the
Passe Partout,
” Paolo said eagerly.

Ramage winced at such a recent memory. “That's not a very good example, but just do your best. And remember, your men have to do their best as well.”

He motioned Paolo to put the order in his pocket. “Now, we should be arriving at our destination tomorrow afternoon if the wind holds. For various reasons I don't want the whole convoy arriving at the same time, so from sunset tonight don't chase up the laggards. Let them lag. Ideally, I'd like half a dozen ships to arrive in the first hour or so, three or four an hour later, and the last of them at dusk …”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“And there's one more thing. You can keep Stafford and Rossi, but I need Jackson back. You can pick a good man to replace him. Now, listen carefully; this is what you will do when the convoy arrives.”

Paolo listened for four minutes, nodded, was reprimanded for not saying “Aye aye, sir” to acknowledge the orders, and then left the cabin and climbed down to the waiting boat in a haze of excitement: he commanded a ship-of-war and had a document to prove it. Suddenly he found the prospect and responsibility did not frighten him. At least, not very much.

The
Calypso
's lookouts first sighted land lying low on the horizon to the east two hours before noon, but apart from there being cliffs along the coast no one, apart from Southwick, was sure that they were on course for their destination.

The advantage of the destination lying on a coast that ran north-west and south-east was that a noon sight gave the latitude, which ran almost at right angles through the coastline. If the latitude from the sight was greater than the latitude of the destination, they had to turn south, if less then north.

With fifteen ships following the
Calypso,
Southwick knew that his navigation was important, but as the sun climbed higher towards its zenith in a cloudless sky the Master only grinned when Ramage and Aitken teased him.

The effect of the
Passe Partout
lying out on one wing of the convoy and not swooping down to make a laggard set more sail to catch up was very apparent. The
Sarazine
was still the closest to the
Calypso,
but she was now a good two miles astern, with the Spanish
Golondrina
abeam. After those two ships, the other thirteen were spread out to the westward so that four of them had almost dropped below the horizon, all but their topgallants hidden below the curvature of the earth.

The
Passe Partout,
recognizable because of her lateen sail and in the far distance looking even more like a shark's fin, now seemed as much of a straggler as any other merchant ship in the convoy, although Ramage guessed that Orsini was keeping his men busy with the hundred and one jobs that needed doing—checking over, cutting into proper lengths and drying slowmatch, cutting more wads for the swivels; filling more cartridges—and Ramage knew that meant sewing more flannel cartridges, because one of the items Orsini had taken with him was flannel. Orsini, Rossi, and Stafford would carefully check for wear on the vangs holding the big lateen yard and the sheets and the downhauls at the lower end of the yard. The sail had been lowered for an hour yesterday, so all the holes from the
Magpie
's musket balls would have been repaired.

Baxter and Johnson, Ramage was prepared to bet, were scrubbing out the after cabin, the master's, which Orsini was proposing to use as his own as he had to be close to the man at the tiller in case of an emergency. The fo'c's'le, too, was suffering from several months of too many seamen being careless with scraps of food. Orsini would be hoping for a captain's inspection of the
Passe Partout
when they arrived but, Ramage thought ironically, he had never yet tried to give one of those big lateen sails a harbour furl—and it was unlikely the French would have any of the neat canvas gaskets, in effect straps, to which Orsini was accustomed; more likely one of the vangs would be wound round and round the yard in a spiral to furl the sail in a long bundle.