write about the episode. It was a bizarre affair, and it was going to sound even more bizarre when reduced to the bare wording of a stylized letter to the Admiralty, beginning with the usual: 'Sir, be pleased to inform their Lordships ...'
The report had to go to the Admiralty because he was sailing under Admiralty orders; otherwise it would be to a commander-in-chief, and he would probably be seeing the admiral personally at the time he handed in the letter containing the report.
The watch changed and the third lieutenant, George Hill, took over the deck from Kenton. Hill was an unusual man: debonair, tall and thin, he was bilingual, thanks to a French mother who had married his father, a banker, and then found herself almost completely unable to learn English.
He had a dry sense of humour which Ramage found amusing; he was a very competent officer, and the men liked him. Almost more important, he could make Southwick laugh.
'Have you ever heard of a collision like that one, sir?' he asked Ramage.
'No, never. But they were unusual circumstances.'
'Perhaps we were lucky in coming across a Frenchman so sensitive about his jibboom and bowsprit.'
Ramage laughed and then said: 'If I'd been him I'd have been just as sensitive. If you're a Frenchman this is no place to lose a foremast.'
'You'd already worked that out, sir?'
Ramage shook his head. 'No,' he said frankly, 'at the time it seemed the only way of escaping from at least one of the Frenchmen. Not escaping really, of course, since we'd have been pinned by him, maybe even holed. But that would have been better than being trapped between them and pounded to pieces: we'd have lost most of the ship's company.'
'Well, we've learned a new trick!'
Ramage held up a cautionary finger. 'It's not one we're likely to be able to use again.'
Hill grinned and said: 'No, sir, true enough; I'm thankful we were able to use it once!'
Both men glanced aloft as the lookout at the foremasthead hailed.
'Land ho! One point on the starboard bow!'
CHAPTER THREE
Both Ramage and Hill picked up telescopes. Ramage could just make out a faint blur, a blue-grey hump with a dark cloud just above it. 'It's probably the island of Capraia,' he said shortly.
Was it a coincidence that the two French ships of the line had passed so close to the island? It was a barren sort of place, admittedly. It might be a good idea to pass close and have a good look: he would look a fool if the French had put a couple of battalions on shore there, though he could not think of a good reason why they should.
'We'll harden sheets so that we can lay the island, Mr Hill.'
The third lieutenant gave an order to the men at the wheel and then picked up the speaking trumpet. The men on watch hauled on sheets and braces and the ship steered a couple of points to starboard, heading for an invisible place to windward of the island.
Capraia. From memory, there was just a small fishing port once protected by an old fortress called San Giorgio. And six years ago there was the tragedy of the Queen Charlotte. 'Capraia, sir? Why does the name stick in my memory?' Hill asked.
'Pirates and the Queen Charlotte, I expect.'
'Ah yes, she blew up, didn't she?'
Ramage nodded. 'It's a barren sort of place but pirates love it. As far as I remember, the people living there appealed to Lord Nelson - who was in Leghorn at the time - to send them a ship to get rid of the pirates. His Lordship sent the Queen Charlotte, but while she was on passage and passing Gorgona at the north end of this group of islands she caught fire and blew up, killing more than six hundred men.'
'So Capraia never did get rid of her pirates?'
Ramage shrugged his shoulders. 'Probably not. We might find some there ...'
'Where do they come from, sir?'
'Most of them from the Barbary coast, I think. The local people just call them Saraceni. At one time nearly all pirates in the Mediterranean were Saracens, but now I suspect that quite a few of them are Algerines.'
'There must be a good harbour there.'
'No, it's just a small fishing harbour. The pirates only come there during the summer. That's why we aren't very likely to find any now - too early in the year: they don't want to get caught in a storm with no port to leeward.'
By now Hill, who did not know the Mediterranean at all well, was intrigued at the idea of meeting pirates, and looked at the distant island once again with his telescope.
'What do these pirates do, sir?'
'Mostly raid towns and villages. Seize a few fishing boats, but mainly they're interested in targets on shore. They are not seamen; just Arab bandits with boats to get to the various islands. They even raid places on the mainland of Italy, looting, kidnapping men for their galleys and women for the brothels.'
'I don't think I want to live around here,' Hill said.
Half an hour later the lookout reported a small sail ahead, following up with a hail saying it was a fishing boat which had just altered course to cross ahead of the Calypso. Ramage pinched his nose. Altering course to cross ahead? That was unusual: normally, local fishing boats kept away from ships of war; they could be visited by pressgangs on the lookout for ablebodied men. It was not unknown for a party from a frigate to confiscate their entire catch.
'Send Jackson aloft with a glass,' Ramage told Hill.
Jackson, rated one of the sharpest-eyed men in the ship, was soon shouting down to the deck that the fishermen were waving cloths, trying to attract the Calypso's attention.
What had the fishermen got to say? Surely they were not trying to sell their catch. Ramage shrugged: there was only one way of finding out.
'We'll heave to just to leeward of them,' he told Hill. 'Pass the word to Mr Rennick to have a dozen marines standing by at the entryport.'
Rennick, the red-faced Marine lieutenant, would be only too glad of the opportunity to parade some of his men: he had about the most monotonous job in the ship. No, perhaps the surgeon did, since it was rare for any of the frigate's men to report sick.
At that moment Southwick came up on to the quarterdeck.
'Trouble, sir? I heard the lookout hailing.'
Ramage shook his head. 'No, just a fisherman up ahead who is trying to attract our attention.'
'Probably wants to sell us some fish,' Southwick said gloomily.
Ramage nodded. 'That's what I thought. Still, some fresh fish would be welcome: our men don't seem to be having any luck with the lines we're towing astern!'
Southwick rubbed his hands together. 'Yes, a nice tuna steak would not come amiss.'
Ramage could see the fishing boat quite clearly now through the glass. It was quite large; he could make out eight or nine men on her deck, several of them waving cloths, probably their shirts.
Their little ship was flying no colours, but that was not surprising. They were almost certainly from Capraia, the island ahead.
Hill gave an order to the quartermaster, who passed it to the men at the wheel. The Calypso bore away a few degrees to larboard, so that the fishing boat was now ahead and under half a mile away.
She had once been painted red and blue, but now her sides were saltcaked and the nail sickness, the streaks of rust from the nails used in her planking, looking like dark tear stains. Her sails were so patched that there were more patches than original cloths, and as she pitched Ramage could see baskets on her foredeck, waiting for fish. Or maybe they held the catch they wanted to sell.
Ten minutes later the Calypso, her foretopsail backed, was lying stopped to leeward of the fishing boat and Ramage, the speaking trumpet reversed so that the mouthpiece was against his ear, was trying to understand what the fishermen, who seemed excited, were trying to shout to him.
Finally he put down the speaking trumpet. 'It's no good, I can't make out a word,' he told Hill. 'Hoist out a boat and bring the captain over.'
Southwick sniffed disapprovingly. 'We're going to a lot of trouble for a pack of fishermen,' he muttered. 'Why not let 'em use the boat they're towing astern?'
'It'll be quicker using one of our own boats. And,' Ramage said, 'they're not trying to sell fish.'
'You heard that much, then?'
'No, but all their baskets are empty - I can see them from here. So they're not selling fish. They may be reporting seeing some ships. Perhaps they saw the two French ships of the line and want to tell us about them!'
It took several minutes to hoist out a boat and then Jackson clambered down into it with a crew. The boat was rowed over to the fishing boat which, sails now lowered, rolled heavily.
The fishing boat's captain, when he came on board, was a tall man so thin his face was gaunt. He had several blackened teeth and very large hands on the end of extraordinarily long arms.
He saluted Ramage awkwardly and started off a long explanation in Italian which had a heavy local accent.
Ramage listened carefully, nodding from time to time, but otherwise standing with his head inclined forward while the Italian gesticulated frequently, holding up a finger to emphasize a particular point.
Finally the Italian finished his story, with Southwick, Aitken -who had come on deck as the Calypso hove-to - and Hill watching him impatiently, not having understood a word. They saw Ramage hold out a hand and the Italian shake it vigorously.
As the Italian went to the entryport to climb back down into the boat, Southwick looked at Ramage questioningly. Ramage looked puzzled and shook his head, as
