Ramage & the Saracens (32 page)

“You're saying that because your gun was firing on the boats,” Stafford said. “You'd have thought different if you'd been out on the jetty playing cut and thrust with that screaming ‘orde.”

“Staff, I don't know when we haven't been fighting screaming hordes: it doesn't make any difference whether they are French or Saracen. You're as dead whether you get your head cut off by a Saracen scimitar or a French cutlass.”

“Very comforting,” Stafford said. “I'll sleep better tonight knowing that!”

“All those women,” Gilbert said, as if talking to himself. “Just imagine, if those Arabs were raiding a town in France and carrying off all the young women. It is too horrible to think about.”

“I know what you're going to say,” Stafford said. “We have to take any risk to rescue the women. But ‘ow are the Italian husbands left behind going to treat those women after we've rescued them? After they've been in an A-rab brothel for a few weeks? I'll tell you: they won't want anything to do with them. It's the women I feel sorry for. They're doomed if they stay in the brothels, and they're doomed if we rescue them. All these Italian men have a rotten streak in them: the streak of pride. They're quick to see an insult, but they won't be big enough to forgive those women something they couldn't avoid. If anyone's to blame it is the men, for not fighting off the Saracens.”

“You're probably right, Staff,” Jackson said, “but there's nothing we can do about it. Just rescue them and hope for the best.”

“Kill as many Saracens as you can, that's the only revenge,” Rossi said. “You're right about the Italian men; it's one thing I'm not proud about. Not that Sicilians are real Italians,” he added.

“But it'd be the same if the women were Genoese,” Stafford persisted. “You chaps from Genoa would still treat them wrongly.”

“We would and it would be unfair,” Rossi agreed. “But that's the way life is, and you can't change it.”

“Give the bread barge a fair wind,” Stafford told Rossi, who was sitting at the outboard end of the table. “I'm hungry.” He took out one of the hard biscuits that passed for bread and automatically rapped it on the table before starting to eat it. “These have gone soft already,” he grumbled, inspecting it carefully for weevils. “I dunno, salt beef is too hard and the bread is too soft. This commission's lasted too long.”

“You're getting soft; I don't know about the bread,” Jackson said. “Must be old age. The years are beginning to show, Staff.”

“Beginning to show!” Stafford exclaimed. “What about you? Is that baldness I see—or are you growing up through your hair?”

“We're all growing old,” Gilbert said lugubriously. “Seeing each other every day, we don't notice it.”

“Be that as it may,” Stafford said, “Jacko's still losing his hair.”

“He might be, but he's still the handsomest American on board the
Calypso!
” Rossi said unexpectedly.

“That's not difficult, since he's the only one,” Stafford growled. “Why, his head will soon take a shine.”

Ramage sat squarely at his desk and put Southwick's two sketches in front of him. He looked at them for a few moments and then commented: “We're lucky: Sidi Rezegh could have been a lot more difficult.”

“We'll need the right wind,” Southwick said. “It's got to have a lot of north or south in it, if we are to get in and out.”

“With the soldiers, we have enough men so that we can tow out if necessary,” Ramage said grimly. “We can tow out taking our time.”

“We'll have to watch out for the fort. The fact that none of the men saw sentries up there doesn't mean that the guns are out of action.”

“No, it doesn't,” Ramage agreed. “But what are the chances of them being usable? When was Sidi Rezegh last attacked? Not once in the last hundred years, I expect. So the gun carriages will probably be rotten or worm-eaten, and so all the rope work will be, too. The powder may not be damp because it is a dry climate, but I wouldn't like to be the man that fired those guns. The recoil will probably send them flying over the ramparts.”

“It had better, because that fort's built so the guns can rake all of us as we lie at the quay.”

“Yes, but the Saracens would have to pass us to get to the fort, don't forget that.”

“We can hope,” Southwick said, giving one of his famous sniffs, one which Ramage interpreted as expressing doubt.

“Well, what have we got?” Ramage said, picking up the diagram which Southwick was going to redraw as a chart. It showed Sidi Rezegh as a rectangular-shaped port lying north and south along an east coast which was backed by sand dunes and palm trees. It had a northern and an eastern breakwater to form the harbour, with the town on the west side opposite the harbour entrance which was at the bottom right-hand corner—at the north-east end, in other words. The northern stone breakwater—a relic of its Roman origins, Ramage thought—had a small, round fort, with the four guns on the top at the seaward end.

The quay, lying east and west, ran from the fort to the town. A third of the way along the harbour side of the town stood the barracks, in which the slaves were locked when they were not in the galleys. Fifty yards further along stood a white stone building which was the brothel. The mosque stood further inland from the barracks. And that was it, apart from a shoal lying north and south right in the middle of the harbour. The galleys were usually anchored between the shoal and the eastern breakwater.

There was enough room for the
Calypso, Amalie
and the two sloops to lie one beyond the other along the northern breakwater, the nearest sloops being only fifty yards from the barracks. And if there was north in the wind all four ships would be able to get away by drifting off the quay under fore-topsails and then, with a bit of smart sail-handling, wearing round to avoid drifting on to the shoal and then luffing up to get through the entrance. With a south wind they would need to approach the quay at a sharper angle, dropping an anchor so they would be able to pull themselves off.

“It could be worse,” Ramage said, putting down the chart. “And, more to the point, at least we know what it looks like.”

“I'll draw it up then,” Southwick said. “Six copies each of the chart and the map.”

“Combine the two,” Ramage said. “The less paperwork the better. The major should be able to follow a chart as well as a map!”

“Very well,” said Southwick, relieved at not having to draw maps. “I think we'll end up with some very adequate charts.”

That evening the three captains, the major, Aitken and Southwick were crowded into Ramage's cabin. Roper of the
Amalie
sat in the armchair, the major shared the settee with King of the
Betty
sloop and Payne of the
Rose
sloop.

Southwick and Aitken sat on chairs brought from the coach and all except Aitken held copies of the chart of Sidi Rezegh. Ramage tapped the chart on the desk in front of him, looked round at the men and said: “I trust you have all studied this.”

They all murmured that they had. Ramage then decided they should all hear what the major suggested. “Well, Major, what has the army to say? How do you see the attack?”

The major, Henry Golightly of the 65th Foot, was a tall, sandy-haired man who was regarded as taciturn by his regiment but who enjoyed the company of naval officers because they encouraged him to talk. He coughed, as if it was expected of him, and then said: “I know nothing about what your ships can do, but as far as I'm concerned we need surprise. If the figures I have heard prove correct, we're going to be heavily outnumbered. So we have to use surprise.

“That's the first thing. Then I'd like my troops put ashore on the quay and then with as many of your sailors and marines as you can spare, I propose we rush the barracks, free the men, and then go on to the brothel to free the women. I would keep the force together to concentrate them: all the men to attack the barracks before going on to free the women.

“If there's any chance of trouble from that fort, then we need to detach thirty men to silence it. If it isn't manned, then our men should be able to stop the Saracens getting along the quay to it, they would have to pass our ships first.”

Ramage nodded, pleased with what the major said. “Thank you, Major: your ideas seem to coincide with mine. Captain Roper, what do you think?”

“I agree surprise is about the only ally we have. It seems to me we have to wait for a wind with some north or south in it—waiting out of sight if necessary. And then I think that quay is long enough for all four ships to get alongside. After that—well, Major Golightly has said all that need be said.”

Ramage gestured towards King, who cleared his throat vigorously. “The only trouble I see so far is that we haven't used our guns to clear the streets. If all four ships go alongside the quay, none of them can bring any guns to bear—except bow-chasers—on the barracks area. I'm wondering if there isn't enough water for me and the
Rose
to get alongside the wall next to the barracks, at right angles to the quay. From there we should be able to cover the whole area and keep up a brisk fire until Major Golightly's force arrives.

“Then, once the barracks are cleared and if the Saracens are in any numbers, we can warp along the wall and keep up a hot fire on this brothel, so that the women can be rescued. It might be better if they were brought to the sloops, rather than led all the way round to the frigates. It's just an idea which occurred to me.”

“And a very good idea it is,” Ramage said. “Southwick, do you think there's enough water along that wall for the sloops to get in there?”

The master consulted his original diagram. “I have only two soundings along there—well, not soundings, of course, but guesses by the former prisoners. One is fifteen feet and the other twenty. That's enough for the sloops. Providing there aren't any rocks along there,” he added cautiously. “I'm fairly sure there aren't any shoals.”

“Very well,” said Ramage. “Now, how about you, Mr Payne?”

“I agree with King, sir. I think we should risk it. We should be able to lay down an effective covering fire for the troops, marines and sailors coming round from the frigates. And, as King says, we can warp along to cover the building with the women in it.”

Ramage looked at Golightly. “Well, Major, how does that idea strike you?”

“I like it,” Golightly said emphatically. “I didn't think the sloops could get alongside there, but if they can give us covering fire it means the Saracens can't reinforce the guards at the barracks. And putting the women on board the sloops is a good idea: I didn't like the idea of them having to run all that way back to the frigates: some of them might be in a very distressed state. So, yes, I think it a splendid idea, absolutely splendid!”

Ramage smiled at King. “Well, Commander, thank you very much: everyone seems in agreement with your idea. I must confess myself slightly jealous of your shallow draught: I dare not risk trying to get the frigates alongside over there, but it seems you are going to see all the action.”

King grinned in reply and said: “From what I have heard and read about you, sir, in the West Indies as well as the Mediterranean, it won't hurt you to have something of a back seat for once!”

Ramage nodded and laughed. “We'll see. You might find my fellows at the barracks before you have had time to open fire.”

He thought for a few moments and then looked round at the men, who were waiting expectantly. “Very well,” he said, “we will wait just over the horizon for a wind with some south or north in it. Then we will sail in. And this is how we'll attack.” He then outlined his ideas, modified by Jason King's suggestion about the sloops.

When he had finished he said: “Tomorrow morning we have one last exercise, embarking the troops, marines and sailors, and landing them on the beach. I'm not concerned with the beach part of it, but we might change our plans at the last moment and need to use the boats.”

It was easy to spot where Sidi Rezegh was, yet still stay beyond the horizon and out of sight of the Saracens: Sidi Rezegh was midway between four humpbacked hills, two to the north and two to the south, and quite unmistakable.

The wind was light, from the west, and when he had worked out the noon sight Southwick commented to Ramage: “There's half a knot of current, and it's probably due to the wind.”

Judging the strength of the current along the coast of Sicily and in the channel over to the Tunisian coast was always difficult: the usual east-going current sometimes turned into a counter-current as it swept into the great gulf along the east coast of Tunisia, and became a hostage to the wind: a prolonged westerly wind could set up a two-knot east-going current; an easterly wind could set up a current going west at a couple of knots or more. And a light wind or a period of calms could mean no current at all. It was an area not favoured by navigators: a few days'
scirocco
hiding the sun with dust haze or cloud could prevent sights and bring a lot of guesswork into navigation.

“We're about eleven miles due north of Sidi Rezegh. As close as we need to go until we get the wind we want,” Southwick added.

Ramage agreed. “We don't want to be spotted by any Saracen vessel going into Sidi Rezegh, but even if we're sighted by one of them this far out they'd never guess our destination.”

He turned to Kenton, who was the officer-of-the-deck. “Make a signal to the flotilla to heave-to, and stand by to heave-to this ship when I give the word.”

After Kenton passed the instructions to Orsini, who was in charge of signals, he picked up the speaking-trumpet and started giving orders preparing to heave-to.

The seamen running to the rigging had to pick their way over the bodies of soldiers who, finding it too hot below, were allowed to lie down on the deck. Many of them had stripped down to trousers; already some were red from sunburn, although Ramage had given instructions through Major Golightly that no man should be bare for more than an hour.