Sir Henry was hard put not to overrule Ramage and insist on coming, and so were the two other admirals, until Ramage had been forced to tell them brutally that they were out of condition, would be hopeless shooting with muskets and probably with pistols as well, were completely untrained for this kind of fighting (in which the Calypsos excelled) and - this had been the final argument - for every one of the admirals he took he would have to leave a trained Calypso behind.
The repulsive Cargill, not consulted since he was a bachelor, had started off by insisting that he should be in command, proclaiming that this was an attack for which soldiers were trained, and so on. Again Ramage had been brutal. No, he corrected himself, his contempt for Cargill had made him almost vicious, and when Cargill had tried to assert his authority in front of all the other hostages, Ramage had asked him where he had seen active service. When the general evaded the question, Ramage had dismissed the whole question with a curt: "It is no secret, sir, that you had neither seen a shot fired in anger nor heard one until the Calypso fired at that French frigate."
Yes, it was nasty, it was probably unfair, and it was many other things, but it was necessary and, Sir Henry had said to him privately afterwards, Cargill had asked for it. Had he kept his mouth shut, everything would have gone off smoothly, but once again Cargill had wanted to play soldiers, and this time the result could be not only disastrous for the Calypsos, but lethal for the hostages up in the fort.
Aitken scrambled over the edge of the cliff and joined his captain. Ramage was secretly pleased to note that the first lieutenant was also panting.
"That rope ladder was a good idea of Orsini's sir," he gasped. "It'd be a devil of a climb without it." He paused. "But you came up without it, sir."
"Yes," Ramage said, adding teasingly, "a question of seniority."
"Aye, there's many advantages in being a poor lieutenant if that cliff face is the price o' being on the Post List!"
Several seamen followed and squatted down in the grass behind the officers. Then Hill came up, leading several men who very carefully lifted wooden buckets over the edge and equally carefully set them down again. Rennick was next, followed by Sergeant Ferris and five Marines. Rennick had wanted to bring all the Marines, but Ramage had pointed out that Kenton, left in command of the ship, needed a force in case the French arrived from Port' Ercole.
Finally Southwick, puffing and blowing but very cheerful, arrived and announced: "There! If I can haul myself up this cliff, then a convoy of rheumaticky grandmothers can let themselves down! The boats have returned to the ship, sir," he reported to Ramage.
"Very well. Now, Mr Aitken, fall in the two parties and then we can move on and finish tonight's business."
Ramage again tested the breeze while Aitken sorted out the seamen, and then he inspected the buckets. They were doing their job and the men responsible for them knew what they were expected to do. Ramage walked with Hill until they were out of earshot of the men.
"Hill, I don't want to make you nervous, but I must make sure you realize the success of the whole attack depends on your positioning. Almost more important, you and your men mustn't be seen by the sentry - or the people roused out when he raises the alarm. Until you hear shots - if youhear shots - you keep out of sight. If there's shooting and if you've finished your job, then you can join in."
"Yes, sir, I understand. Seems a long way from the great cabin of the Salvador del Mundo!"
"If it all goes wrong, we may yet find ourselves back there!" Ramage said grimly and recalled the strange court-martial, where a captain's insanity had put his life in danger and Hill, a bored young lieutenant on the port admiral's staff, had asked Ramage to be allowed to sail with him.
Aitken joined them. "The two parties are ready, sir." Then he asked Hilclass="underline" "You're sure you have enough men? Ten, and five buckets?"
"They'll be enough," Hill said confidently and excused himself.
"He doesn't seem nervous," Aitken commented. "Bit o' luck getting him when Wagstaffe was promoted. Now, sir, about our party. I've put the seamen in the lead, with Rennick's Marines following. Rennick's not very pleased but I pointed out that he would insist on his men wearing those clod-hopping boots!"
"You're quite right," Ramage said. "The most important part of this is going to be done crawling on our bellies, and seamen with just pistols and cutlasses are less likely to make a noise. Rennick will get his chance if any real fighting starts. Right, we're ready so -" he took out his watch and turned it so the moon lit the face, "- as it's almost half past one we can move off. We'll give Hill's party a couple of minutes' start along the edge of the cliff, then Orsini and Rossi can lead us to the fort."
The track (now used only by goats and sheep and the lone contadino) dipped and climbed and twisted as it led to Forte della Stella which, as the patchy cloud drifted across the moon, alternately disappeared in the darkness and then reappeared, almost ghostly and unreal, its grey stone walls fleetingly silvered, but stark, remote and menacing. As the track took a final turn which brought them in sight of the main gate - the only gate, Ramage corrected himself - he decided that it was time for the final approach on hands and knees.
"This track curves round to the left on its way to Port' Ercole, and leaves the Fort on the right," Orsini explained quietly. "About two hundred yards farther ahead there's a fork to the right, a smaller track which goes off to the fort, but Rossi and I took a short-cut through the macchia, starting here. It's about one hundred and fifty yards to the gate."
Ramage again pulled out his watch, waited for a cloud to drift clear of the moon, and saw they had taken only ten minutes. Hill's men would not be in position yet, and the Calypso's third lieutenant knew he was not to start until at least half an hour after leaving Ramage's party. Twenty minutes to go ... More than enough time, Ramage decided.
Even after letting Rossi and Orsini get three or four yards ahead, so that the sage and juniper bushes they pushed aside did not spring back in his face, Ramage felt his cheeks and forehead smarting with many scratches from unexpected long twigs. The dam' pistols chafed the skin at his waist and seemed to have stove in his lower ribs. The cutlass lashed on his back thudded monotonously against his spine, despite the canvas covering and marline lashing, and every sage and thyme bush and juniper must be the home of a hundred hungry mosquitoes.
The smell of thyme and sage (and rosemary - "That's for remembrance") brought back memories of the desperate affair several years ago not far from here (in fact he could see the Torre di Buranaccio on the mainland from the cliff top) when he and Jackson had rescued Gianna. Another lifetime; now, crawling on his belly towards the fort, it was hard to believe he had ever been there, and that for years he had thought he loved Gianna, and cursed the differing nationalities and religions that prevented them marrying.
Then, some years later, he had met Sarah and married her. Now Sarah was probably drowned, and Gianna murdered by Bonaparte's men, and here was Captain Ramage back again, a few miles from where the first part of the story began. Only now he was alone. Alone, probably a widower though his thirtieth birthday was distant, and crawling on his belly, with Jackson once again close behind him.
One day this thrice-blasted war would end, and he would go on half-pay and return to St Kew to live on the family estate. Cornwall attracted him and there would be a job for Jackson, who did not want to return to America, and the widower and bachelor would gently slide into old age, nodding knowingly about a newly born foal, cursing a late frost which caught blossom on the apple trees, and making sure the men doing muckspreading had plenty to drink. Rheumatism would set in and he and Jackson would creak and reminisce over old times. About rescuing Gianna, capturing the Calypso, raiding Curaçao, sailing into Trinidada off the Brazilian coast (no, they'd both keep off that because it would remind them of Sarah), and they'd reminisce too about this affair.