Ramage and the Dido (26 page)

‘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 round 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.’

‘No, she doesn’t know we’re out here and is probably wondering why the
Scourge
keeps on burning false fires. She could understand the rockets, thinking we are somewhere off Cap Salomon,’ Ramage said, ‘but her captain must be wondering why there are no more rockets.’

Just then another false fire started burning, and Ramage could see that the
Achille
was still on the same course and less than half a mile away. In the blue light he could see the curve of her sails and the black blur which was her hull. What could they see from the
Achille
?
Would they be able to spot the
Dido
against the blacker northern horizon?

Suddenly Southwick exclaimed: ‘I can see her very well with the nightglass. All plain sail set. She’ll pass about a quarter of a mile ahead of us. She’s probably making five knots: no more, I can just make out the phosphorescence at the bow.’

‘Warn them to stand by at the guns,’ Ramage told Aitken. ‘It won’t be long now.’

A night action against another seventy-four: the fact was he did not know what to expect. Apart from the thunder of the guns, there would be a mass of flashes which would make it hard to see anything. But at least the flashes would give the gunners an aiming point: they would not be hampered by darkness.

‘She’s coming up quite fast,’ Southwick said, the nightglass to his eye. ‘I think I can just make out a black speck that is the
Scourge
in the distance. It’s damned difficult, what with this nightglass showing everything upside down.’

Ramage cursed that there was only one nightglass on board the
Dido,
but it belonged to Southwick and he did not feel he could demand the use of it at this particular moment.

‘How far now?’

‘Under five hundred yards, sir. I reckon she might spot us any minute.’

Then, Ramage mused, what would she do? She could turn to larboard and head out to sea – in which case the
Dido
would follow her – or she could turn slightly to starboard, trying to give the
Dido
a wide berth but getting close to Pointe des Nègres, or else she could stay on her present course and engage the
Dido,
exchanging broadside for broadside.

Just at that moment the
Scourge
set off another false fire, which lit up the
Achille
perfectly: she was large on the starboard beam and Ramage with the naked eye could make out the tracery of her rigging.

‘Let the foretopsail draw, turn to larboard on to the same course,’ he snapped at Aitken. He should have turned the ship sooner so that she presented a smaller object for the
Achille
’s
lookouts to spot.

Slowly the
Dido
began to move ahead and turn so that the cliffs of Pointe des Nègres moved round from being dead ahead to broad on the beam. Before she finished the turn the false fire died down and Ramage, who had closed his right eye, cautiously opened it, and found he had kept his night vision in that eye. Not only that, but he could now just make out the
Achille
’s
position as she approached. He had to go to the ship’s side and look astern out of a gunport on the starboard side.

‘Three hundred yards,’ Southwick said. ‘She’s holding the same course and making perhaps five knots.’

And then Ramage could make out the big black shape of the ship with a ghostly phosphorescent bow wave which flickered a pale green. She was about two or three hundred yards nearer Pointe des Nègres but, as the
Dido
finished her turn, on the same course.

‘They must have seen us by now,’ Southwick commented. ‘I wonder why they haven’t opened up with bowchasers.’

‘Probably learned their lesson from using the sternchasers against the
Scourge
:
they found the flashes blinded them,’ Ramage said.

‘Well, he’s not trying to dodge us: he’s not afraid of engaging us broadside to broadside,’ said Aitken.

‘He hasn’t had much time to think about it,’ Ramage said mildly.

‘Well, he hasn’t much choice now!’

The
Achille
was approaching fast. She had not increased speed: Ramage knew it was just a trick of the light, or the dark. But he decided to close the range.

‘A point to starboard, Mr Aitken.’

As the
Dido
turned slightly, the
Achille
seemed to slide closer.

As far as Ramage could make out, she had not reduced sail. But even as he watched he saw the courses being clewed up: an indication that she had only just sighted the
Dido.
Now the French were at a slight disadvantage – being forced to fight with too much canvas set.

The range was closing fast now in the darkness: Ramage could see the ship quite clearly: she was two hundred yards away, broad on the
Dido
’s
quarter and overhauling her. Another three minutes and she would be abeam, and the fighting would start.

Ramage found himself timing the approach as he watched. Two minutes. He turned to Aitken. ‘Tell the guns to be ready for the order to fire in about a minute.’

The first lieutenant snatched up the speaking trumpet and Ramage did not take his eyes off the
Achille.
Now the tip of her jib-boom was abreast the
 Dido
’s
taffrail. Now her foremast, bulbous with the clewed up course, was level with the poop.

‘Stand by,’ Ramage muttered at Aitken, who lifted the speaking trumpet to his lips.

There were several bright flashes as the
Achille
’s
forward guns opened fire, and Ramage was thankful that he had been watching the ship long enough to know exactly where she was: otherwise he would have been dazzled by the muzzle flash.

More of the French ship’s guns fired and Ramage heard the tearing calico noise of the shot passing overhead. The French were aiming too high. Was this because the gunners were not used to firing in the dark or were they deliberately firing high to disable rigging?

Now, after firing her guns as they bore, the
Achille
was almost abreast the
Dido
and Ramage said: ‘Fire!’

It was as though there was a huge clap of thunder and a prodigious flash of lightning as the
Dido
’s
broadside fired, every gun going off within a second.

Ramage had been a moment too late in closing his eyes and the combined flash of all the
Dido
’s
broadsides had dazzled him. He found it hard to see the
Achille,
although she was a bare hundred yards away, with the
Dido
still on a slightly converging course.

‘A point to larboard should bring us on to the same course,’ he told Aitken just as the
Achille
’s
forward guns fired again. It was curious how guns firing individually were never so terrifying as a broadside. Ramage just had time to decide that the French, firing a few guns at a time, had dazzled themselves, when a shot whined between him and Southwick after ricocheting off the mainmast.

Suddenly Orsini’s carronades on the poop barked out again: they could be loaded quicker than the carriage guns, and Ramage could imagine the youth’s excitement as he spurred on his men.

Then the
Dido
’s
second broadside crashed out: slightly ragged this time as the men took slightly different times to load their guns. Now the smoke was streaming across the quarterdeck, making them all cough and spreading through the ship like fog. It blurred the flash of the guns firing, softening the harshness until it was like lightning in a thick cloud.

So this is what a night action between ships of the line is like, Ramage thought to himself. The only startling thing was the flash of the guns: it turned night into what seemed to be the entrance to Hell. The rigging threw weird shadows on the sails; the sails themselves were lit up spasmodically and threw more shadows, apparently distorting the masts.