The ship was a day late. She had been due the previous afternoon but lookouts on Punta del Soldado had not sighted her until ten o'clock this morning, slowly beating her way up to Snake Island from Cape San Juan, the nearest point of Puerto Rico. It had been a long and tedious turn to windward, with the tacks to the north shortened by the almost continuous line of cays and reefs between Cape San Juan and Snake Island.
There had been plenty of time to prepare: to relieve the real Spanish soldiers of their uniforms and dress up a dozen laughing, joking seamen so that tunics, breeches, hats and boots were the best possible fit.
Jackson, in Colon's uniform, had come out best: the men were of similar build. Ramage grinned to himself as he recalled Colon's expression when, having suffered the indignity of being made to remove his uniform by a none too gentle Jackson, he had watched the American dress up in it, with Stafford providing a ribald commentary.
The island had a perfect anchorage, with the bay shaped like a bottle, the narrow entrance, or neck, facing south. With the Trade winds always blowing from the easterly quadrant, any ship entering could be reasonably sure of a commanding wind. Leaving might be a different story: a south-easterly wind could mean towing out, using the boats for a few hundred yards. But few ships sailing from Snake Island would be likely to be in that much of a hurry.
Ramage caught sight of a distant white shape beyond the entrance to the bay and walked up to the house, where he was met by Southwick.
"Just spotted her," Ramage said. "She's rounded Punta del Soldado and is getting ready to ease sheets to reach in." "Everything is fine here, sir."
"Your Castile Yeomanry," Yorke commented, "may not be smart enough to be His Most Catholic Majesty's palace guards at the Escorial, but from a distance they'll pass muster as the garrison of Snake Island."
"I'll remuster them as the Snake Island Volunteers," Ramage said. "Recruiting starts in the morning. Subalterns' commissions are selling for five hundred guineas."
Yorke whistled. "A stylish regiment, hey?"
"We can afford to be fussy about who we accept," Ramage said airily, and then suddenly stiffened as he saw Maxine watching from the window of her house.
"I thought I gave an order that the St Brieucs were to be escorted inland until the ship arrived."
"You did," Yorke said wearily. "There is a slight difficulty in making the youngest member of the family obey it."
"What about the parents, and St Cast?"
"They're already a couple of miles away, escorted by a couple of mates and six of my seamen."
"But why wasn't Maxine ... ?"
"Ask her yourself," Yorke said.
Ramage blushed and turned to look to the entrance of the bay again. The ship's hull was lifting appreciably over the curvature of the earth: she had a couple of miles to go. There was no need for the men to stand in the heat of the sun providing they formed up before the Spanish captain could see their rolling gait, and Ramage told Jackson to march them to the shade of the houses. Jackson looked uncertainly at Ramage.
"March them," he repeated. "I heard one or two of them laughing at Stafford's attempts."
So they marched.
"Hogarth ought to be here," Yorke said, "with his easel placed on this balcony. Only his brush could do justice to it!"
"'The Rakes' Progress'," Ramage said. "Not the kind of rake he had in mind, nor the progress, but it'd be a fitting title."
An hour passed before the ship, a beamy schooner, finally stretched through the bottle-neck entrance to the bay, and Jackson's soldiers returned to the jetty.
No one seemed to know why the troops met the schooner, but Ramage was relying on the slave Roberto's description of how the last supply ship had been greeted. She had arrived a few days after the frigate that brought Colon, the soldiers and the slaves from San Juan, and Roberto had mimicked Colon's annoyance at having to stop the slaves digging so that the soldiers could be at the jetty.
Roberto was unable to offer any explanation, however. The soldiers did not help unload; the slaves did that. The soldiers neither fired a salute nor presented arms when the ship came alongside. Roberto added that they ran off the jetty at the last moment "because the captain of the ship is not very skilful and he hit the jetty so hard that everyone thought it would collapse".
Apparently Lieutenant Colon sat on the balcony of his house, watching. Lines from the ship to secure her alongside were handled by the men in the ship, who jumped down on to the jetty. Once the crew had shouted abuse at the soldiers and later the captain had had words with the teniente. They had shouted at each other for half an hour and after that they never spoke to each other again.
They asked Roberto what sort of ship she was but he shrugged his shoulders. Two masts, the body was black with a red stripe all round it, like a belt. He had only been in two ships in his life, the one that brought him to Puerto Rico (a slaver) and the one that brought him here. The ship was called La Perla - "The teniente mentioned her name when he was swearing at the captain."
The slave's information was reassuring: there was no Spanish military or naval custom which, if ignored, would arouse suspicion. Ramage wanted no mistakes made: if even one of the Topaz's guns had to open fire, it would mean damage to the schooner and might even put her permanently out of commission.
Once inside the bay, the schooner moved fast: her captain had to harden in sheets to get up towards the jetty, and then for a reason neither Ramage nor Yorke could subsequently explain, he bore away and then suddenly luffed up head to wind, dropping his foresail, mainsail and headsails. But she was carrying too much way: as the seamen hurriedly tried to furl the sails, the captain ran from side to side of the quarterdeck, screeching at the two men at the massive tiller. At the last moment they heaved it to larboard as the schooner came directly towards the jetty and the houses.
"Try prayer," Yorke advised.
"Miracles," Ramage said. "He - we - need lots of miracles."
A minute or two before the schooner was due to hit the jetty her bow gradually began to come round to starboard. Ramage shouted to Jackson to clear his men out of the way - security was not necessary now. Jackson could have been conducting a band playing "Heart of Oak" without being noticed. Ramage began running down the slope from the house, followed by Southwick and Yorke.
At that moment the schooner passed clear of the end of the jetty and her bow slid up on the sandy beach at the water's edge.
Ramage, Southwick and Yorke all stopped, looking up at the masts now towering above them. "Bolt!" Southwick shouted and they spread out in all directions to avoid being crushed if the masts fell over the bow, broken like twigs by the force of the impact. But there was no splintering wood and snapping rope rigging. The screeching of the Spanish captain, who appeared to have gone berserk, was the only sound to be heard.
Ramage turned back and began running for the beach, again shouting for Jackson who had vanished with his seamen. He had no idea how to regain control of the situation. His splendid plans took no account of the potentially lethal effect of bad seamanship.
The only way of getting on board the schooner now was by wading and clambering up over the bow. He waved to Southwick and pointed to the gun positions.
"One round to one side to scare 'em!"
He and Yorke stood at the water's edge looking up at the schooner's bowsprit and jibboom jutting out above them.
"I could strangle him," he said thickly. "The damned incompetent idiot!"
"Saves anchoring or wearing out ropes," Yorke said, "but of course, you get your feet wet going on shore!"
Ramage was trembling with rage. Where the hell was that damned American with his men?
"Jackson!" he bellowed. "Jackson, blast you!"
"Here, sir!" the American called. Ramage and Yorke looked round and saw nothing.