Close hauled, the Juno could just lay the anchored frigate, but the quartermaster gave the men at the wheel an order from time to time that let her yaw, so the luffs of the topsails fluttered for a few moments.
Southwick walked up to him, the great cleaver of a sword hanging from his waist. 'The Governor over there must be rubbing his hands, sir.'
'I hope he'll be gnashing his teeth in half an hour or so!'
'No doubt about that,' Southwick said confidently. 'Let's just hope this wind holds - it couldn't be better for our purpose. If it suddenly veers to the south-east . . .' The master left the sentence uncompleted because if it went round that far the Juno would stand a good chance of ending up on the rocks at the foot of Pointe des Nègres, at the northern entrance to the bay. Luckily such a wind on a clear day like this was unlikely.
Southwick then nodded approvingly towards La Créole as she tacked, the big fore-and-aft sails swinging over, the headsails flapping for a moment before being sheeted home again. 'He's enjoying handling her!'
'Aitken's first command,' Ramage commented. 'Ironic that it's under the Tricolour! A few extra tacks will give him more confidence.'
'He's going to need it,' Southwick said grimly. 'If he arrives five minutes late it might be all up with us!'
'And if we arrive five minutes early it might be all up with him.'
The Master chuckled. 'I think he took the point when you gave him his orders, sir.' He looked aft at the anchor cable, which covered most of the quarterdeck like an enormous thick carpet patterned like a regular maze. 'If that confounded cable kinks when it begins to run out it'll tear the transom off!'
'Oh, come now,' Ramage said mildly. 'We might need some repairs to the taffrail, and Aitken will grumble about chafed paintwork.' He turned and gestured to the quartermaster, who hurriedly signalled to the men to give a slight yaw.
Southwick lifted the quadrant he had been holding and looked towards the anchored frigate. He knew the height of the Surcouf's mainmast and had already set the quadrant at an angle the mast would subtend at the distance of one mile.
'Half a mile to go, sir. I mean, she's a mile and a half away.'
Ramage nodded as he looked at a white dome of a building at the western end of the city. It was dead ahead and made an easy reference point for the quartermaster. He turned and gave the order. For the time being the Juno would not be steering by the compass; it was going to be nip and tuck as the frigate stretched up towards that dome until the anchored Surcouf was to the seaward of the Juno; to seaward and, when the Juno tacked as the water shallowed, fine on the starboard bow.
La Créole tacked again and then La Mutine tacked and suddenly Southwick pointed at Fort St Louis. Ramage saw a single puff of smoke drifting westward and began counting the seconds. He reached five when there was another puff of smoke. Damnation, he had forgotten the Fort might fire a salute to the victors! The Juno's guns were loaded with case and there was no time to start drawing shot now to return a salute.
The thud of a gun close by startled him and he saw smoke drafting away from La Créole. 'Good for Aitken!' he exclaimed. 'He was quick!'
Five seconds later another of La Créole's guns fired as those on the Fort continued a salute.-'Hope he doesn't get carried away,' Southwick muttered. 'It's time all those popguns of his were loaded with shot!'
The Surcouf was gradually drawing round on the Juno's starboard bow as the British frigate reached the seaward end of the anchorage. Southwick lowered his quadrant and said: 'One mile exactly, sir.'
Ramage looked at his watch and then over at La Créole, which tacked yet again and began to reach across the Juno's stern. Aitken was keeping his head: he had orders to tack under the Juno's stern when he judged the frigate was a mile from the Surcouf, and perhaps young Orsini, who was on board with him, was using a quadrant.
The French frigate was now on the Juno's beam and through the telescope Ramage saw fewer men on board than he had expected. They were all crowding the bulwark, no doubt gleefully, but enviously watching their shipmates bringing in the prize, and he estimated that there were fewer than a hundred. He had expected two or three hundred, and thought La Créole's, lieutenant had been deliberately misleading him when he said that less than half the ship's usual complement was working on her.
Looking over the Juno's starboard quarter he could see well into the Salée anchorage now and there was no sign of movement on board any of the schooners anchored there, at least none that could be sighted from this distance although he would be able to see if any of them were making sail.
He had been listening for several minutes to the rhythmic chanting of the depth of water from the man standing in the f orechains and heaving the lead. The man had orders only to report depths of less than five fathoms, and he was merely calling: 'No bottom at five fathoms ... No bottom at five fathoms with this line . . .' Suddenly the note of his voice changed. 'Two fathoms! Two fathoms!'
Twelve feet? The frigate drew more than sixteen forward! Ramage snatched up the speaking trumpet to tack the frigate and a moment later there was a hurried 'Belay that, sir!' from the leadsman and then, as if nothing had happened, he continued his chanting: 'No bottom at five fathoms ..."
By then Southwick was already hurrying down the quarterdeck by ladder and half-way to the forechains. Ramage saw him talking to the leadsman, who was standing on the chainwhale, a line round his waist
The damned fool!' he exploded as soon as he returned to the quarterdeck. 'He wasn't watching what he was doing and heaved the lead so that it caught up in the chainwhale. He felt the weight on the line, didn't realize it wasn't in the water, and read off the mark!'
Ramage shrugged his shoulders. 'Thank goodness he said two fathoms and not three: I realized that with two fathoms we'd have been aground already.'
The episode had taken only a minute or two but the shore was now less than half a mile ahead, with the Juno making a good six knots. Already Ramage could distinguish people on the beach and the Surcouf was half a mile away on the starboard quarter: too far for anyone on board to hear orders shouted in English but close enough for Ramage to make out every detail.
He walked back to the binnacle: the Juno was steering north-north-east on this tack; she should make good south-south-east on the other. He glanced astern at the Surcouf and took a rough bearing - south by east. The time had come to roll the dice.
Now fear was creeping in again like evening fog forming in a valley: the sun seemed more glaring, the colours brighter. Cold water.seemed to be swilling in his stomach, time was slowing down, and the hiss of the Juno's bow wave seemed louder. The excitement was there; this must be how a gambler felt when, having staked everything, he waited for the dice to stop rolling ...
Southwick had the speaking trumpet and from now on he would relay Ramage's orders. Yes, La Créole had tacked yet again and was steering to the south-east; another couple of short tacks and she would be in position.
Southwick was looking at him anxiously and he realized that the leadsman was calling four fathoms, but the men were already standing by at sheets and braces. Ramage signalled and the Master began shouting orders. The quartermaster spoke urgently to the men at the wheel and sprang to the binnacle. The wheel spun and the frigate began turning quickly to starboard, the whole of the Fort Royal shoreline moving swiftly across her bow. The topsail flapped for a few moments as the Juno turned through the eye of the wind and continued swinging until the wind could fill the sails again on the other tack.