CHAPTER EIGHT
Next morning the Surgeon reported to Ramage shortly after dawn, holding a list in one hand and his journal in the other. Bowen had a long face and said mournfully, 'It's been a long time since I had to report men on the sick list, sir . . .'
'You'd better start getting used to the idea,' Ramage said grimly. 'We'll be seeing plenty of action in the next few weeks, I hope. Now, what sort of harvest did you reap last night?'
Bowen held out the list. ‘The men are so careless,' he grumbled. 'They don't seem to give a thought to their own safety.'
'This list certainly bears that out,' Ramage said crossly, and Bowen looked up, startled. 'Four men wounded by the accidental discharge of pistols, one by a musket ball, one cut by a cutlass - how the devil can that happen? - and three with rope burns to the hands and shins.'
'Accidents will happen, sir,' Bowen said lamely.
'Accidents? Five shots fired. Can you imagine that happening as boats row up with muffled oars to make a surprise night attack on an enemy ship at anchor? Even one shot would give the alarm. The enemy is alerted and opens fire, and every man in our boarding party might be killed. Twenty men die - many more if there are other boats - all because of the stupid, criminal carelessness of one man.'
He looked down at the list and said wrathfully: That can happen if one man is careless, but just look at this.' He waved the paper. 'Not one man but five. And in every case the man shoots himself or another of his shipmates. Well, I'm warning the ship's company that the next time I'll have each man flogged -'
'Fortunately, sir, all the wounds are slight. I have -'
'Bowen,' Ramage snapped, 'frankly I don't give a damn about the wounds. What concerns me is the noise. A pistol shot at night can be heard for a couple of miles, let alone a couple of yards. Can't you understand that one man's carelessness can kill all his shipmates, and wreck a carefully planned attack?'
'Yes, sir, I do understand about the gunshot wounds, but the rope burns -'
'Rope burns!' Ramage exclaimed. 'Damnation take it, Bowen, these men are supposed to be seamen. Do I have to start training them to climb ropes?'
'Excuse me, sir,' Bowen said nervously, not having seen Ramage so angry before, 1 did question those three men because it surprised me too, and it was due to enthusiasm. All three were climbing the same rope to board the Juno, and apparently the lower two men were urging on the man above them. In his excitement he missed his grasp with one hand, began to slide and took the rest of the men down with him.'
'Very well,' Ramage said, a little mollified. 'But this fellow with the cutlass wound?'
'Didn't Orsini report that incident to you, sir?' Bowen asked cautiously. 'What incident?'
‘Oh dear, sir, I seem to be getting into deep water. I don't want to get Orsini into trouble ...'
'Out with it,' Ramage ordered, 'otherwise I'll send for Orsini. I'll have to anyway, if it is something he should have reported.'
'Well, sir, apparently the boarders from the cutter came over the starboard side of the fo'c'sle and those from the launch over the larboard side. Both parties began boarding at the same time, and when they met on the fo'c'sle one man from each party began quarrelling about who was first on board. I'm sorry to say they came to blows.'
'With cutlasses?' Ramage asked incredulously.
Bowen nodded. 'One of them was cut and they only stopped slashing at each other when Orsini jumped between them. It was a very brave act on the part of the boy,' he added.
'Very foolish if you ask me. Were the men drunk?'
'No, just excited. You see, sir, they're so proud of the ship now that they're all trying to outdo each other and be first at everything. I'm surprised –‘
When the Surgeon broke off, Ramage said, 'Well, go on, man!'
'I was going to say, if you'll excuse the boldness, sir, that I was surprised you had not noticed it. All the lieutenants have been commenting on it for some time, and Southwick is most gratified ...'
'Proud, are they?' Ramage exclaimed. 'Well, after that farce last night they ought to be thoroughly ashamed. I assure you, Bowen, that I am heartily ashamed that I command a ship which is incapable of sending off boarding parties that don't spend their time shooting at each other.'
He gave the list back to Bowen. 'It's your job to treat these men, Bowen, but have you ever thought what a captain feels? I'm trying to train them so they stand the best possible chance of carrying out any orders I give them without unnecessary casualties. If I send out boarding parties made up of untrained men to attack a French ship and the boats return three-quarters full of dead and dying men, you'd be justified in blaming me. I'm trying to make sure it never happens; that every man realizes that a mistake, however slight, can get everyone killed.'
Bowen nodded and folded the list. 'I understand, sir,' he said quietly. 'If you'll just sign the entry in my journals . . . I'll have these men back on their feet as soon as possible.'
Ramage went to the desk and took out pen and ink from the rack. He glanced down the names and was thankful to note that none of them was a former Triton. Under the 'Disease and symptoms' column he saw that the gunshot wounds were comparatively slight. The cutlass wound was a gash on the forearm. He scribbled his signature and gave the journal back to the Surgeon.
Bowen hesitated for a moment and then said cautiously: 'Orsini's failure to report the episode, sir ...'
Ramage raised his eyebrows. 'Orsini?'
The Surgeon grinned. 'Thank you, sir. He's a lad with plenty of spirit - I sometimes wish the Marchesa could see him now.'
An hour after sunrise the Juno tacked off Pointe des Salines at the south end of Martinique and steered northwards along the coast, keeping as close in to the shore as Southwick's sketchy charts allowed. Jackson was aloft at the foretopmasthead with strict orders to watch for any signs of shoals, and the Master had the chart spread out on the binnacle box, held down by weights and his quadrant.
The Juno's guns were loaded and run out, the lieutenants stood by on the maindeck, watching their own divisions, and Ramage stood aft beside the quartermaster, a speaking trumpet on the deck beside him and a telescope in his hand.
The land here was flat but rising slightly towards Pointe Dunkerque. That was a good place for a battery, to cover one side of the deep but narrow bay forming the anchorage of St Anne, with the village of Bourg du Marin at its head. It was a fine little anchorage for droghers carrying sugar cane from plantations at the south end of the island up to Fort Royal and St Pierre - and an equally good place for privateers to lurk, ready to snatch up a British merchantman making its way up or down the coast, while safe from any British frigate which would not risk the shoals almost closing the entrance. Yet, Ramage remembered, the Welcome brig had been close in under Pointe Dunkerque, and had not been fired on. Perhaps the French were short of guns, too, using those they had for the defence of Fort Royal and perhaps St Pierre, which had no harbour.
The Pointe soon drew round on to the Juno's quarter as Ramage took her over towards the headland on the northern side of the entrance. He now saw it would make more sense to place a battery on that side because any vessel beating into the bay, which ran north-east, would have to pass within a hundred yards of it to avoid shoals on the other side.
He lifted the speaking trumpet and shouted the order that would brace the yards and trim the sheets as he gave the quartermaster instructions to steer a point more to starboard. Through the telescope he examined the headland, nearly a mile distant. There was a hint of a pathway leading up to an old stone wall partly overgrown with bushes. Then he noticed that the bushes round the wall were withered; the leaves were brown while those shrubs nearby were a living green. Was that some movement beyond the wall? It was hard to tell at this range.