"Yes, they would," Sir Henry agreed.
"Still, they stay in harbour when there's a scirocco blowing."
Sir Henry nodded, content to let Ramage make his point in his own fashion.
"Once it's blown out, they'll be out here fishing. And they'll see the wreck. They'll come straight over to see what pickings there are, expecting plenty of rope and timber. They'll find the French crew still on board," Ramage continued, almost dreamily, and Sir Henry realized that he was thinking aloud. "Still on board because even if they'd made a raft, they'd never reach the shore with a northgoing current.
"But not for a couple of days ... I can't see the fishermen venturing out before then. The French persuade or threaten, so that the fishermen take the captain and a few others on shore. To Talamone or Castiglione . . . No, most probably Rocchette, because that'd be a run or a broad reach.
"The nearest French headquarters to Rocchette?" Ramage shrugged his shoulders. "Grosseto, I should think. That must be a good thirty miles from Rocchette. The French frigate captain arrives in Grosseto and reports - yes, it would have to be to the Army - that he's stuck on the Formiche di Grosseto, and there's a British frigate on the loose somewhere."
Sir Henry laughed. "He wouldn't get a very sympathetic hearing, I imagine."
"No. And the commandant at Giglio still thinks he's handed over his hostages in proper form and doesn't realize they've been rescued. So neither the French frigate captain nor the French authorities at Grosseto have any cause to connect this wretched British frigate with hostages ..."
"No," Sir Henry agreed, "they'd all think she was - or is - in the area by chance."
"So in Port' Ercole, no one would know anything about all this, and with average luck no one now in Grosseto is likely to be gossiping in Port' Ercole for a few days. It must be forty miles by land from Port' Ercole to Grosseto."
"So there's a chance, eh, Ramage?"
"They tell me the fishing off Port' Ercole is good, and most of us were round there a year or so ago with the Calypso and a pair of bomb ketches, so we know what the countryside looks like."
"It must be charming," Sir Henry said lightly. "The sort of view that watercolour artists like."
"Yes. I only managed some pencil sketches last time because we were in a hurry. Ah, I see they're at last getting a spring on the cable."
Sir Henry eyed the French frigate. "At this distance it's going to mean some good shooting."
"Yes," Ramage agreed. "Just smash the boats, that's all I want. No need to kill a lot of men who are in enough trouble already."
Sir Henry gave a dry chuckle. "Have you thought of what the French authorities will do to that captain when they finally work out what has happened?"
"Not in detail, sir; just enough to be thankful it's not me."
Sir Henry made no comment. It was now clear to him that Ramage still intended to try to rescue the rest of the hostages. The admiral thought soberly that he was damned if he could see how the youngster would achieve it, but then, who else would have had the thundering cheek to march up to Castello and coolly sign the commandant's receipt for the people he was rescuing?
"So there should be time," Ramage went on, and Sir Henry guessed that Ramage was both thinking aloud and letting him know his idea on the situation. "We wait near Port' Ercole for the weather to clear. By then the fishermen up here will be taking this sorry crowd of Frenchmen on shore. We land ... we can't risk more than that night and the next day. And the following night, if necessary. Then away, round the coast south of Sardinia and hurrah for Blackstrap Bay and Gibraltar. All being well."
Sir Henry stayed at the quarterdeck rail with Ramage as the Calypso's men started fitting a spring on the frigate's cable. Ramage always thought this method of training round an anchored ship so that the broadside guns could be aimed at the target was like a bull's head being held by one rope tied to a ring in its nose and the rest of the animal being turned bodily by tying a second rope to its tail and heaving.
Southwick had supervised the men securing a hawser to the anchor cable using a rolling hitch. The hawser was put over the larboard side and brought aft, outside all the rigging. It was then taken round the stern and led back on board, coming in through a sternchase port and then to the capstan.
As soon as Aitken was satisfied that the hawser led clear, directly from the cable, along the ship's side and back in through the sternchase port, he signalled to Southwick. The master's party veered some of the anchor cable so that as the Calypso dropped back several yards the hawser attached to it led forward and, as Aitken's men paid out more from aft, both it and the cable where it was secured dipped beneath the water.
Finally both first lieutenant and master were satisfied: the bull's tail, Ramage noted contentedly, was secured (by the hawser) to the rope attached to the ring in its nose (the anchor cable).
As soon as Aitken formally reported that everything was ready for them to begin hauling, Ramage said: "Beat to quarters, then, Mr Aitken; we may as well make an early start."
Sir Henry watched the drummer boy flourishing his drumsticks and commented: "Surely that lad's drum has French colours painted on it!"
"French colours and the name of a French frigate, sir," Ramage said, half apologetically. "We captured the frigate off Devil's Island last year. Up to then we'd used bosun's calls to send the men to quarters, but they liked the idea of a drum, and the Marine lieutenant had a boy ready, so . . ."
"Most appropriate," Sir Henry said. "After all, the Calypso is a French-built ship!"
Aitken was waiting for fresh orders. "We'll try with just one gun at first, Mr Aitken," Ramage said, "because if we start firing broadsides we can't spot the fall of individual shot. Which reminds me, we may as well start with grape. Now, tell Jackson to wake up at his gun and I want you to report as you start hauling in on that hawser and turning us round until his gun is aimed."
Aitken, speaking trumpet in his hand, began shouting orders. First a party of men removed the wedge-shaped drawers from the capstan and slid in the bars. The swifter was quickly passed round and the men ducked under it to stand upright, their chests against the bars.
On the maindeck the powder boys now sat along the centreline, using their wooden cartridge boxes as stools and chattering happily. The deck had already been wetted with the washdeck pump as a precaution against spilled powder and sprinkled with sand to prevent men slipping; all the guns now had their locks bolted on, with the lanyards neatly coiled on the breeches. And beside each gun were several rounds of grapeshot, each of which looked like small black oranges embedded in a cylinder of pitch.
Aitken, reporting everything ready, looked questioningly at Ramage, who nodded. At a word from Aitken the men at the capstan slowly stepped out to start the capstan revolving while two other men hauled the end of the hawser clear as it led off the capstan barrel.
The first dozen revolutions of the capstan were easy because the men were taking in the slack: Ramage saw that the hawser leading from the Calypso's larboard quarter vanished below the waves almost dead ahead.
The clunk, clunk, clunk, clunk of the capstan pawls slowed down as the strain came on the hawser. After a few more turns the men began to heave the Calypso round by her stern so that the stranded French frigate would soon be on her beam, within reach of her broadside guns.
The deck was now beginning to run with water as the straining capstan barrel squeezed the water from the hawser, and a seaman stood beside the men with a bucket, throwing handsful of sand on to the deck beneath their feet.