Ramage At Trafalgar

Southwick chuckled. "They won't be in this mess, I'll be bound. Snugly reefed, and probably in line of battle. Two lines, rather - His Lordship leading one and Admiral Collingwood the other, just as His Lordship describes in his memorandum."

"Give the masthead lookouts a hail," Ramage told Aitken. "Watch to the westward for a sight of our fleet."

It took Aitken several minutes, shouting at the top of his voice, to pass the order above the wind. "They've got their sou'westers pulled down over their ears," he grumbled to Ramage, who was becoming tired of wearing his thick oilskin coat: the smell of the tar that made it waterproof was giving him a headache; every move made the coat creak and crackle as the stiff material had to bend. It was easier to turn one's whole body than glance round - a movement of the head chafed the skin and also displaced the towel round the neck so that spray and rain soon trickled in and, slowly and coldly, snaked its way down the back.

By six o'clock the mass of ships of the Combined Fleet were at last steering south, but only a dozen leading them were in the three columns that Villeneuve had ordered hours earlier. From the Calypso they had, from time to time, sighted the Euryalus, Pickle and Entreprenante, as well as being reasonably certain that the Naiad and Phoebe were also hovering round the enemy fleet. Presumably the Sirius (well out to the west) was in sight of one of the ships of the line which formed the link with Nelson.

Although the Calypso was still at general quarters, Ramage continued the system of having every other gun's crew off watch, eating a meal or snatching some sleep. Every man could be back at his station for battle in less than five minutes, and a wet and windy night was in prospect.

A few minutes before seven, after a slashing rain squall and while the officers on the quarterdeck had taken off their sou'westers, they heard a hail from the mainmasthead lookout: he could see many masts to the westward.

"Ask him how many," Ramage told Aitken. "It's probably Lord Nelson, but it could be ships from Brest . . ."

The lookout soon reported again. Eighteen ships, in good order and on the same course as the Calypso.

"Very well," Ramage said, "we're steering south-east, and His Lordship intended sailing south-east once he had word that the Combined Fleet had sailed. No Brest ships bound for Cadiz would be that far out - and 'in good order'!"

Ramage burrowed into his pocket to get out his watch. There was very little daylight left, and the only way of keeping in touch with the enemy in the darkness was by getting much closer. There would be little risk: he was satisfied that, with the French and Spanish (the Spanish, anyway) in their present disorder, the Calypso could, if she wanted to, range up alongside a three-decker in the darkness and shower them with abuse without any risk.

"Pass the word to the gu

The Euryalus and the other frigates would also be closing the circle as darkness fell, and if each of them lit a portfire or sent up a rocket from time to time Blackwood would know immediately if the enemy altered course. But unless Villeneuve was suicidal, Ramage knew, he would not order any change while it was dark: instead, he would be praying that none of his ships collided and that (by chance if not by design) they managed to get into columns.

The ships of the Combined Fleet were becoming harder to see; objects on the Calypso's deck - guns, bi

Silkin came up to tell him that a cold supper was waiting for him, and it was clear from the tone of the man's voice that he did not think that watching the enemy from this distance was a good enough reason to have the galley fire out. Ramage had thought about it several times, anxious that the men at the guns should have a hot drink and some hot food, but the regulations were very strict: with the ship at general quarters, the galley fire had to be extinguished. Lighting it now, "within sight of the enemy", made no sense.

No, with all that gunpowder around (and sparks would certainly fly aft from the chimney in this wind) it was not worth the risk: the men rarely spent hours at general quarters or went without hot food. And, he guessed, none of them, knowing they were watching such a large fleet of the enemy, would be grumbling.

And then it was dark: it happened slowly and almost imperceptibly. The candle in the bi

Ramage took the nightglass from the bi

He gave the nightglass to Martin. "They're lighting up for us," he commented. "You'll have no trouble following. . . just keep on taking bearings in case you get a rain squall..."

So Sunday night passed: every fifteen minutes the gu

Two great fleets on similar courses sailing along in the darkness; rolling, pitching, whipping up sheets of spray, soaked by the same rain squalls - and, perhaps within hours, they would be battering each other, killing hundreds of men, with roundshot slicing through many inches of solid oak and grapeshot cutting men down in swathes and parting rigging like a cobbler's knife severing thread.

There was such a dreadful inevitability about it that Ramage shivered. Exactly sixty ships of the line, many of them three-deckers, had a grim rendezvous within a matter of hours, and at a guess half of them would be sunk, captured or so battered they would be scuttled before the sun set again. It was not often that he thought about death, but perhaps it was the sight of the Combined Fleet in such disorder at nightfall that brought it to mind.

Kenton relieved Martin as officer of the deck, and in turn Hill took over, and almost as soon as Kenton had reported the course, wind direction and strength, and that there were no unexecuted orders, Hill commented to Ramage: "I think the wind's eased a bit, sir."

Ramage, sleepy and dazed and wishing he had not rushed his cold supper because it kept repeating itself, had not noticed it. But yes, Hill was right: the ship was not heeled so much and the seas had eased slightly.