CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Windward and Leeward Islands lay in line north and south like the blade of a sickle, with Grenada at the southernmost point. Next to the north came St Vincent, on almost the same latitude as Barbados, which was nearly a hundred miles to the east, a lonely outpost in the Atlantic.
Just north of St Vincent was the mountainous island of St Lucia, and then came Martinique, followed by Dominica, Guadeloupe, Antigua and then the group of French and British islands forming the north end of the Leewards.
From Barbados, Martinique was about 125 miles to the northwest, and a few hours after sailing, the Dido was rolling and pitching her way along with a brisk quartering wind from the east, with the white cotton balls of Trade wind clouds scudding along overhead in their relentless march to the westward.
The Dido had left Carlisle Bay in the darkness, and as soon as dawn broke and the ship's company stood down from general quarters - where they always went to meet dawn and dusk - the washdeck pumps were rigged over the side while seamen collected buckets of sand and holystones ready to scour the decks. The holystones were blocks of sandstone about the size of housebricks and once the deck had been swilled down with water and sprinkled with sand, the men on their hands and knees used the holystones to scour the planking. It was backbreaking work, but since it was done daily the men were used to it, thankful that they were doing it in a warm climate, instead of the Channel, where often there was a bitterly cold wind as well as icy water spurting from the washdeck pumps.
'Holystoning is almost a pleasure in the Tropics,' Rossi commented to Stafford as they worked the blocks back and forth.
'Where's the pleasure?' demanded the Cockney.
The Italian seaman sighed. 'Nothing ever pleases you, Staff. The water's warm, the wind is warm, and soon the sun will be up, bringing another nice day. Be cheerful!'
'That'll be the day,' growled Stafford. 'You'll never find me 'appy 'olystoning: you oughta know that by now, Rosey. It's m'knees. I must be getting old: the joints creak.'
Rossi called across to Jackson, who was holding the hose of a pump. 'Here, Jacko: we need more water.' Then he waved at Gilbert, who was holding a bucket. 'Come on, we want some sand over here, or we'll never get these decks clean.'
'I swear we'll wear out the wood afore we've finished,' Stafford said, giving the holystone he was holding an extra flourish.
Finally the deck was scoured and Jackson directed the stream of water from the pump to wash the excess sand over the side. While some men had been holystoning the deck, others had been polishing the brasswork, using strips of cloth and brickdust.
The men were just beginning to go below for their breakfast when from the masthead came a familiar hail. 'Deck there!' Martin, who was officer of the deck, snatched up a speaking trumpet and answered.
'Sail dead ahead, just lifting over the horizon.'
Ramage, who was listening, said: 'What does he think it is?'
Martin shouted up the question and the lookout answered: 'Probably no bigger than a frigate but on the same course as us.'
Ramage looked round aloft. The Dido was sailing along under courses, topsails and topgallants. 'Rig out the stunsails, Mr Martin,' he ordered. 'There's no British warship around here.'
It took time to rig out the studding sails, which were extensions to the ordinary sails, the head extended by a short yard with a boom which slid out along the yards to hold out the foot.
As soon as they were trimmed, Ramage could feel the effect: the Dido had increased her speed by a couple of knots. Southwick had come to the quarterdeck and he said: 'Whoever she is, she seems to be steering for Martinique. But she's come from the south. From French Guiana, perhaps.'
'Maybe she's a privateer,' Ramage said. 'Anyway, we shan't know until we get a closer look.'
Orsini, sent aloft with a telescope, was soon hailing that the sail was a frigate, on the same course, and that she had just set her royals.
'That settles it, she's French,' Ramage said. 'If she was British she wouldn't set royals just because a two-decker came up astern: she'd be certain the two- decker had come from Barbados: it's obvious from the course.'
But, Ramage wondered, what was a French frigate doing out here? As Southwick had speculated, she might be coming up from French Guiana, but it was unlikely. Cayenne, the only town in French Guiana, had only one use and that was because Devil's Island, just up the coast, was used as a penal colony. The ships visiting Cayenne were usually frigates or transports carrying royalist prisoners from France. Usually they were frigates armed en flûte, in other words carrying only a few guns, the rest of the space being used as accommodation for the prisoners.
Ten minutes later Paolo Orsini was hailing again. The frigate was definitely French, judging from the cut of her sails and her sheer, and they were gaining on her rapidly: she seemed to be a very slow sailer. He stopped talking for a few moments and then added: 'She's just rigging out stunsails.'
Ramage could see the ship clearly with his glass and he could distinguish that the frigate was beginning to look wider as the stunsails were set. Aitken had come up to the quarterdeck and Ramage nodded to him. 'You've arrived at the right time: I was about to tell Martin to beat to quarters. Bend on the challenge.' A minute later the Dido's two Marine drummers were striding up and down the upperdeck, thudding away at their drums, and at once the ship's company ran to their stations, reminding Ramage yet again of a disturbed anthill.
Again it was the same procedure: the washdeck pumps, only just put away after holystoning the deck, were brought out again and rigged, the gunner collected the big bronze key of the magazine and went below, and the crews began hauling on the lanyards that raised the gunport lids. As water was sprayed over the deck men scattered sand, and soon Ramage heard the report from Aitken that all the guns were loaded and ready to be run out. 'Can I bring Orsini down now, sir, so that he can look after his carronades?'
'Yes, we can see what we're about from down here.'
He could imagine just how the French captain felt now, with a seventy-four rapidly overhauling him. There was no chance of him reaching Martinique in time to seek shelter: even now the island was just coming into sight, a bluish bruise on the horizon to the north-west.
Now, with every stitch of canvas set in the Dido, it was only a matter of time before they ranged up alongside the frigate and started firing broadsides into her.
He saw Orsini coming down from aloft and watched him hurry up to the poop, to take command of the carronades. He knew that the three lieutenants, Kenton, Martin and Hill, were standing by at their divisions of guns, as were some of the senior midshipmen. He knew that every available telescope on board the French frigate was trained on the Dido. 'Run out the guns,' he told Aitken. It would depress the French even more, once they saw those stubby black fingers sprouting out along the Dido's sides.
'Hoist the challenge, if you please Mr Aitken.' Ramage watched as the flags rose on the halyard. He put the glass to his eye, watching the frigate as a matter of routine. But no answer was hoisted, not that Ramage had expected one.
Still Ramage puzzled over why a French frigate should be out here. If she had come from French Guiana - which he finally decided was a remote chance - there was no reason why she did not go up the inside of the island chain, keeping to the westward. That way she would not risk interception by any British warships on passage between Barbados and other islands such as Grenada and Antigua. Could she have come from France and made a landfall too far south? That too seemed unlikely. A mistake in longitude, yes, putting her too far east or west, but not in latitude, taking her too much to the north or south: a latitude sight did not have to depend on the accuracy of the clock: the highest altitude around noon was sufficient.
No, it was a puzzle, but now the Dido had closed the distance to a mile, and Ramage could see that the ship was black with two white strakes, and the sails were very patched. The maincourse seemed to have more patches than original cloths and he thought he could see small holes in the stunsails - probably where rats had been chewing, and showing that the stunsails were not used very often. Or that the frigate had a lot of rats on board.
Southwick was busy with his quadrant and, after consulting his tables, reporting distances. Three quarters of a mile, and the Dido was making at least nine knots. The stunsails were going to be a nuisance and Ramage gave Aitken the order to take them in.
The master had just reported the distance was down to half a mile when Ramage told Aitken to clew up the courses. What about topgallants? Would the frigate try to escape at the last moment by some cunning manoeuvring? He decided to leave them: the Dido handled well under topsails and topgallants.
The Tricolour was very obvious now, and Ramage could see that it was very faded, either from age or too much Tropical sun. And the black paint of her hull had no sheen; it was a long time since her topsides had last been painted. In fact, he thought, what with the patched sails and faded paint, the frigate looked as though she was at the end of a long voyage.
There was no need for Southwick to call out any more ranges: in fact Ramage just managed to read her name, even though the paint on her transom was faded. She was the Volage, and Ramage was surprised she had not opened fire with her sternchasers, in the desperate hope that a lucky shot might bring down the Dido's foremast, or damage her bowsprit.
Then he noticed, for the first time, that the Volage had run out her guns, some of them, anyway. He watched through the glass, waiting for the rest to be run out, but nothing happened, and he realized there would be no more: only eight guns were run out on each side.
'That poor devil's armed en flûte!' he exclaimed to Southwick and Aitken. 'They've only run out sixteen guns, eight a side.'
'What unlucky fellows,' growled Southwick. 'A lot of them won't live to see the sun set.'
But what was a frigate armed only en flûte doing here? Had she been carrying prisoners to French Guiana? Was she bringing stores from France to Martinique, urgently needed stores which could not wait for a convoy?
There were many questions, Ramage decided, but no one was going to find the answers - yet. 'Pass him fifty yards to larboard,' Ramage called to Jackson, who once again was acting as quartermaster.
'Warn the gunners that we will be engaging to larboard,' he told Aitken, who immediately sent off two midshipmen who had been waiting on the quarterdeck.
The Dido seems to be making a habit of sinking or capturing frigates, Ramage thought to himself. In fact the thought would be depressing but for the Junon: she had also accounted for a seventy-four, so no one could say she was a bully!
Now the range was closing fast: two ship's lengths would do it. Just as Ramage was preparing himself for the thunder of the Dido's broadsides he was startled to
