'Right men, up you come. Give me a shove, blast you!'
The man heaved up so hard Ramage pitched right over the rail and, before he could get his balance, fell flat on his back on the fo'c'sle, the hilt of Southwick's sword knocking all the breath out of him. More of the Kathleens came up over the rail and Jackson was kneeling beside him.
'You hit, sir?'
‘No, I tripped. Come on!'
In a moment Ramage was on his feet leading the men in a wild dash across the fo'c'sle, scrambling over the thick folds of the foresail, pieces of masts and yards and tangled cordage. Right aft he could see British seamen's cutlasses glinting as they scrambled from the Captain's spritsail yard on to the San Nicolas's mizzen rigging. Spanish soldiers were shooting up at them and sailors stood ready with boarding pikes. Then a rattle of musket fire from the Captain cut down several of the Spaniards.
Meanwhile the bow of the San Josef was swinging and she'd soon be lying right alongside the San Nicolas.
Suddenly he realized he was empty-handed: Southwick's sword was bumping the back of his legs - he hadn't hauled the belt round. As he ran he dragged at it, grabbed the hilt and by drawing it over his head managed to get it clear. He tugged a pistol from his belt and cocked it with his left thumb.
Three Spaniards suddenly appeared from behind a gun - they'd obviously been skulking there out of the way - and ran aft yelling to raise the alarm. Jackson flung his half pike like a spear and the farthest fell, a rag doll tossed on the floor, making the two others turn.
One with a pistol in his hand was by then a couple of yards from Ramage and aimed straight at his face. Forgetting his pistol, Ramage desperately swung Southwick's sword but saw the man's index finger whiten as he squeezed the trigger.
The sword cut into the man's shoulder as Ramage waited for the flash from the pistol's muzzle which should have killed him. Then he saw the Spaniard had forgotten to cock the pistol.
Clutching his wounded shoulder, he spun round and as he fell the third man, cut down by Stafford, collapsed beside him. Stafford paused to pick up the pistol and followed Ramage.
Now he was abreast the mainmast. Drifting smoke hid much of the ship and several Spaniards were still standing to their guns and staring at the Captain, oblivious of the Kathleens running past.
Then Ramage was abreast the boats stowed amidships and running along the narrow gangway, dodging round more Spanish seamen who were still watching the bulk of the Captain, which was too far aft for them to train round their guns.
He saw a British officer - Edward Berry, just promoted and serving as a volunteer in the Captain - dropping down from the mizzen rigging on to the quarterdeck, a couple of dozen men following him. At the same instant a surge of Spaniards from the larboard side suddenly swept across the quarterdeck almost overwhelming Berry and his boarders.
The sharp clinking of sword against sword, the popping of pistols and muskets, more smoke, wild shouts - Ramage's own! A Spanish face in his way. The great sword swung and the face disappeared, but before Ramage could recover from the swing another man lunged with a cutlass. Ramage fired his pistol almost without aiming and the man screamed and fell to one side. As a third lunged with a pike Ramage tried to ward him off with the sword and an instant later Stafford's cutlass slashed into the man's side.
Ramage ran half blinded with excitement but seeing more men jumping on board from the Captain. At last the quarterdeck ladder - and a Spanish officer, backing down it with a British seaman above lunging at him, turned to jump and fell to Jackson's cutlass.
'Kathleens here!' Ramage bellowed up to the quarterdeck, 'We're the Kathleens!'
' 'Bout bloody time!' bawled the seaman and started back up the ladder to rejoin the fighting.
But pistols were firing in the captain's cabin and instead of going up the ladder Ramage ran under the half deck to find a dozen or more Spaniards shooting aft into the cabin through the closed door.
Jackson, Stafford and several others had followed him and as Ramage roared 'Kathleens! Come on the Kathleens!' the Spaniards turned, throwing away their pistols and swinging cutlasses and swords. There was no conscious thought, only instinct: parry a stabbing blade here, slice at a screaming Spaniard there, jump back to avoid a lunging cutlass point, sidestep and reach over to parry a wrist-jarring slash which would have split open Jackson's skull. A man in magnificent uniform and garlic-laden breath leapt forward with his sword but before Ramage could parry a blade flashed, the sword dropped from the man's hand and he fell. Glancing round, Ramage just had time to see Jackson grin and realize the Kathleens were standing amid a pile of bodies when the cabin door, riddled with pistol shot, suddenly burst open and a wild-eyed, smoke-begrimed seaman leapt through, cutlass in his hand, pausing a moment before attacking them.
'We're English!' yelled Stafford. 'Watch 'art, yer crazy loon!'
The strident Cockney voice stopped the man as effectively as a bullet, but he was flung aside by more men so Stafford repeated his yells.
Then the Commodore was standing there, hatless, sword in one hand and pistol in another.
He stared at Ramage for a moment, said with a grin of recognition, 'Ah! At least you obey my orders!' and ran past to get to the quarterdeck ladder.
Ramage followed but realized the fighting up there had stopped. Berry and his men were already herding the Spaniards over to the starboard side where they could be covered by muskets from the Captain's decks.
Commodore Nelson spoke a few words to Berry, pointing to the San Josef now lying alongside the San Nicolas, and Berry shouted for his men.
'Mr. Ramage!' called Nelson, 'I think we'll have that fellow as well!' and began running to the San Josef.
Without waiting for more orders, Berry's men and the Kathleens made a mad rush across the quarterdeck, the lithe little Commodore among the leaders, The San Josef’s bulwarks were considerably higher than the San Nicolas's and both Ramage and Nelson leapt into the main chains together. Nelson slipped, Ramage grabbed his arm until he regained his footing, and just as they began climbing a Spanish officer appeared above them on the quarterdeck, calling down that the ship had surrendered. Nelson gave a yell of delight and Ramage felt relief. Then there was a sudden flash at the gun port below and Ramage felt himself swirling slowly down, down, down, into a deep black well of silence.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The drum was beating in rhythm with his heart, the drum would never stop beating, forever sending the ship's company to quarters and to death. Heart of oak, are our men ... Tat-tat-tat, tat, tat-tat ... Ramage tried to scream at the drummer to stop but no words came. The beat was regular and loud: it throbbed in his ears, in his temples, in his chest, and as he twisted his head to get away from it he felt himself spiralling upwards, weightless, dizzy and frightened. He opened his eyes and saw Southwick's blurred face creased with anxiety. Slowly it began to revolve like a top and Ramage shut his eyes again.
'Mr. Ramage!'
'Wha's it, Southwi'?'
'How do you feel, sir?'