Someone tugged his sleeve and he turned to find Southwick grinning at him, the white hair plastered down over his ears and forehead making him look like a bedraggled but happy old English sheepdog just emerging from the village pond.
Ramage gripped his shoulders. 'Are you hurt?'
'No, sir! The mainsheet took a turn round my leg and I couldn't get free, though.'
'Standing in a bight of rope, Mr. Southwick,' Ramage accused him with a grin. 'How many times have you rubbed down a man for that?'
'Aye,' Southwick admitted, 'and I'd still be down there if it hadn't been for Stafford and Jackson.'
'What did they do?'
'Came down again and cut me free. I was a bit rough with them because I thought they'd quit you.'
Ramage laughed. 'No, we're taking it easy: the Dons don't seem to have spotted us and they're doing quite well without our help - for the moment, anyway.'
Astern the rumble of guns was louder and closer. Still the San Nicolas's bow continued swinging slowly to larboard, and a moment later noises like giant hands slapping wet cloth showed her sails were being taken a'back.
Southwick grinned at Ramage. 'No, they don't need our help!'
More Kathleens were climbing up on to the platform. The cutter, still on her side, was almost completely submerged: air escaping through hatches hissed and whistled out in great spurts and bubbles, like a sea monster gasping in its death throes.
Southwick pointed at the shrouds hooked over the bowsprit. 'Can't understand how they're holding. Wouldn't believe it if I wasn't seeing it myself.'
Suddenly they both jumped with fear: without warning the huge bowsprit snapped like a carrot a few feet ahead of the figurehead. Ramage recovered just in time to yell 'Duck!'
Then came the crackling and groaning of a massive piece of timber splintering like a tree falling under a woodsman's axe, and the whole foremast and foreyard slowly toppled over the starboard side, part of the foresail draping across the fo'c'sle and the rest hanging down in the water, hiding the wreck of the Kathleen like a pall.
'Anyone hurt?' demanded Ramage.
There was no reply.
The gunfire was nearer: much nearer. In fact he was sure a British ship was firing into the San Nicolas's stern because all the shouting in Spanish came from aft.
Then a whole broadside shook the ship.
'My God!' growled Southwick, 'She's being properly raked!'
'Look sir,' Jackson exclaimed.
The Salvador del Mundo had put her helm up and was passing along the San Nicolas's larboard side and even as they watched Stafford yelled from across the platform, 'The Excellent!Cor, just look at 'er. Just like she was at Spithead!'
Captain Collingwood's ship was passing close along the other side of the San Nicolas and a ripple of red flashes sent the Kathleens crouching once again in a tangled heap against the bulkhead as the Excellent’s full broadside hit the San Nicolas. The whole ship shook as the heavy roundshot thudded into her timbers, and the little iron eggs of grapeshot sounded like metal rain, clanging as many ricocheted off metal.
Then the Excellent was past. The San Nicolas did not reply; instead, through the bulkhead, the Kathleens could hear the chilling, almost demented screaming of badly wounded men.
On the larboard side yet another Spanish ship was passing, keeping in the wake of the Salvador del Mundo. The Excellent began bracing up her yards, obviously intending to pass across the San Nicolas's bows to engage the other two ships.
Suddenly a thump shook the San Nicolas as though she had run on a rock. Ramage and Southwick glanced at each other, mystified. There was a sudden silence: the shouting stopped for several moments - even the wounded were quiet - and then began again with many voices raised in near panic. Ramage looked down to see the Kathleen had vanished - she'd obviously sunk when her shrouds tore away the San Nicolas's bowsprit - and then scrambled up to peer over the bulkhead across the fo'c'sle. First he saw why the Spaniards had not spotted the Kathleens or anyway left them alone: in falling, the various sections or the foremast had swept the fo'c'sle clear, tearing guns from their carriages or overturning them, wrecking the belfry, shattering the fore-bitts and smashing some of the deck planking. Torn sails, some hanging over the side, hid more damage. Then he saw the reason for the thump: the massive stern of the San Josef was jammed hard up against the San Nicolas's larboard side, her huge red, gold and red ensign flapping languidly against the main shrouds.
Ramage dropped down again. /
'What did you see sir?' Southwark asked excitedly. 'What was it?'
'Somehow we've run aboard the San Josef - or she's run aboard us! I can't make out how she got there, but her transom's tucked hard up against our larboard side at the main chains. The Captain's lost her foretopmast but she's closing on our starboard quarter - it looks as though the Commodore's going to lay her aboard us!'
The men began to chatter among themselves.
'Quiet, you fools,' hissed Southwick. "There are five hundred or so Dons still on board this ship!'
Ramage realized that if the Commodore really did board, the San Josef might send over men to help the San Nicolas - it'd be easy enough: they merely had to jump on board.
'Listen, men. There are enough of us to help the Captain's boarders. I know most of you aren't armed, but we'll split into two parties. My original boarders will go first and make for the quarterdeck. Mr. Southwick will lead the rest of you - you'll find plenty of the Dons' muskets and pikes lying around. And once you get aft keep on shouting "Kathleens here!" otherwise you'll find yourselves shot or run through by the Captains.
'Mr. Southwick - while my party makes for the quarterdeck, I want yours to keep along the larboard side to cover the San Josef. If she sends men over it'll be up to you to stop them.'
With that Ramage climbed up the bulkhead for another look. The San Josef was still jammed against the San Nicolas; the Captain was four hundred yards off and bearing down for the San Nicolas's quarter.
He dropped down to the platform again and, remembering he still had Southwick's sword, began to take off the belt, but the Master stopped him.
'You'll be leading, sir. I'll find a cutlass.'
Ramage protested but saw Southwick wanted him to keep it.
'Now, where are my men?'
Jackson, Stafford and the others crowded round him.
'Right - all of you against the bulkhead. The rest stand by to give us a leg up: we want to surprise 'em. Now, no shouting until I shout "Kathleens". We may get quite a way aft before they spot us coming.'
Again the San Nicolas shook to the sound of an enormous thump.
One of the seamen gave Ramage a leg up. The Captain's bow had hit the San Nicolas's starboard quarter: her bowsprit was right across the Spanish ship's poop, her spritsail yard hooked up in the mizzen shrouds. Already the Captain's boarding parties were grouped along her bulwarks ready to jump, and there were soldiers among them - he remembered she was carrying a detachment of the 69th Foot. As Ramage called down to Southwick to warn the men of the soldiers, there was a cracking of musket fire from the troops in the San Nicolas and Ramage saw several of the Captain's men fall.