Ramage And The Rebels

He looked over to starboard and could just make out the black hull of the Calypso, but she had the Delft beyond and the harbour entrance. The tree frogs sounded sharp and noisy, even this far from the shore, a constant squeaky noise like a Mock that needed greasing. The four Dutch guards, two on the Nuestra Senora and two on the next privateer, now prisoners in the Calypso, must wonder what the devil was going on. Very soon, he thought grimly, they would be certain the end of the world had come.

Ramage, calling down to Re

There was no point in waiting any longer to get under way because everything was ready. Everything except the captain's courage, which be knew had vanished: his knees had a curious springiness about them, and his shin and thigh muscles had melted; there seemed to be bile at the back of his throat and his stomach was on the verge of heaving, as though he had eaten bad meat for supper. By now he was at the mainmast, and the men were waiting expectantly. 'Hoist away,' he said, 'and overhaul the mainsheet. And no noise!'

The blocks had been greased within the past hour, but it usually took a few spins of the sheaves to work the grease in. The blocks on the gaff were no exception, but by the time the sail began to creep up the mast he was abreast the foremast, repeating his order for the foresail. The few remaining gaskets were taken off the foresail and its gaff began creeping up the mast, pulling up the sail and having no apparent co

The mainsail was up, with a few more swigs on the peak halyard needed to top up the gaff, but the canvas was only rippling, not flogging, as the wind blew down both sides so that the sail did not draw. Flogging canvas on a night like this would sound like rolling gunfire.

Now the foresail was up and as the men topped up the gaff Ramage gestured to the men at the headsail halyards. At once narrow triangles of canvas rose up the stays, but instead of taking up the bellying curve of sails drawing they became almost flattened, held aback by the sheets so that the wind pushed against them, thrusting the bow over to starboard. But by then Ramage had walked up to the bow, where the two men waited with axes.

Yes, the Nuestra Senora's bow was being pushed round towards the entrance. 'Cut!' he snapped, and the first axe blade thudded into the cable, followed by the second. Five blows and the end of the cable whiplashed out over the bow and at once the schooner, no longer held by her anchor, swung round to starboard so that she headed along the cha

Without further orders men were casting off the headsail sheets and making them up on the starboard side so that the sails began to draw; three men were enough to trim the foresail sheet because for a moment there was no weight on the sail, and four more tailed on to the mainsheet.

And the Nuestra Senora de Antigua began to come alive: with all the sails drawing she was already picking up speed and Ramage called: 'Sail hoisters - to your boat!' The boat was towing astern, ready for them, and he walked aft, expecting the dozen or so extra men on board to rush past him to jump into the boat, cast off and row for the Calypso. He had reached' the quarterdeck, looking up at the set of the sails and glancing forward to see the Calypso getting closer, when he realized that not a man had moved. 'Sail handlers! To your boat!' he called.

There seemed many fewer men on deck now. What the devil was going on? Or had he had a momentary lapse and not noticed the men leaving?

'Jackson! Has the sail handling party left?'

'It - er, I haven't been watching them, sir.'

'What the devil is happening? Where are the men?'

'Hiding, sir,' Jackson said bluntly. They want to lend a hand setting fire to the ship!'

'But what - '

They can all swim, sir,' Jackson said, leaning against the great wooden bar of the tiller. 'How close should I pass astern of the Calypso, sir? I'm wondering if this side of the cha

'Rossi, stand by to light those port fires!'

One hundred and fifty yards to go, six ship's lengths or more. Flickering at the hatchways - Re

No point in trimming sails; the Nuestra Senora would carry more than enough way to shoot her up into the wind and alongside the frigate. For a moment he thought the crackling was musket and pistol fire from the Delft; then he realized it was the sound of flames inside the schooner. The pitch must have caught - yes, and here was the begi