He sent a dozen seamen across to the Calypso to fetch lanterns; a couple of dozen went over for muskets but were warned that they were to do nothing until all the Spaniards had been captured. As guards they were to fire only as a last resort, because the sound of musket shots would carry across the water and raise the alarm . . .
By the time the lanterns arrived Ramage had divided his men into three groups, one under Aitken to get to the lower deck down the fore hatch, another which he would lead himself down the after hatch, and a smaller group under Southwick to cover the main hatch to prevent the Spaniards scrambling up the ladder to the main deck.
A look over the starboard side revealed a couple of dozen Spaniards swimming close to the ship and shouting for help. Ramage ordered some seamen to throw them ropes and take them to the fo'c'sle under guard as soon as they were hauled on board. They had leapt overboard to avoid being spitted by British cutlasses; now the same British seamen were saving them from drowning.
The parties of men were now waiting ready at the three hatches, each with half a dozen lanterns whose light threw strange and conflicting shadows. Those weird angles were the shadow of the cranked pump handle, and that broad band came from the main mast. Aloft the light caught the underside of the yards and the furled sails, with the shrouds and ratlines looking like nets reaching up to the stars.
Ramage stared down the after hatch. The lower deck was a dark, silent pit. The lanterns lit the ladder but beyond that he pictured frightened men in the darkness clutching their cutlasses - there had been no time for them to grab muskets or pistols -and staring up at the pools of light in the hatchways. How much fight was there left in the Spaniards? Knowing they were trapped, would they be desperate or resigned? Was there a leader down there to rally them? Or, he thought for a moment, a leader who could speak for them all and negotiate?
He was far from sure how many of his own men had been killed or badly wounded: there were many bodies lying round the deck. Just then the light of a lantern reflected on his cutlass blade and showed the stain on the metal, and he knew he wanted no more killing if he could avoid it.
He called to Southwick, who came trotting aft: "Take over here for a moment. Don't go down the hatch."
As he walked to the main hatch Ramage called to Aitken, telling him to stand fast. Like the after hatch, the main hatch was a regular black pit; 12-pounder shot gleamed round the coamings, sitting in semi-circular depressions cut in the wood, like large black oranges on display.
Anyone standing at the edge of the hatchway and shouting at the Spaniards below was lit up by the lanterns, a perfect target, towering over them like a figurehead. Well, he had already decided the Spaniards would not have had time to pick up muskets or pistols; in a minute or two he would know if he had been wrong. The possibility of a shot coming upwards out of the hatch reminded him of the dull pain gripping his stomach, but there was still no blood.
Yet would the Spaniards be crouching round the main hatch? Would they bunch themselves amidships where they could be trapped by parties coming down the fore and after hatches? No, he realized; they would be right forward, waiting for their enemy to come down the fore hatch.
He walked the few more paces that brought him to the small fore hatch where Aitken waited with his men, obviously uncertain what Ramage intended to do. But Ramage knew that while he was prepared to lead men in a wild dash down the ladder, he had little appetite for perching on the coaming like the target in a shooting contest. It had to be done though, and he found himself standing at the edge and taking a deep breath.
"Below there! " he called in Spanish. "Your ship is captured. Throw away your weapons and come up on deck unarmed."
"Let our captain speak to us, " someone answered.
"Your captain is dead, " Ramage said harshly, for the moment less concerned with the truth than persuading the Spaniards to make up their minds quickly. "And so are your officers. You must surrender! "
"No! Help will soon arrive! The soldiers are back in Santa Cruz - they will come on board in the morning."
"By then you will all be dead, " Ramage said, speaking slowly and evenly. "You have only two choices: to live by surrendering, or to die when we come down there after you."
He paused for several moments, letting the Spaniards absorb his words. "If you want to live, you must come up on deck without your arms. If you want to die - well, the moment I give the order, two hundred men will come down there and slaughter you. You saw what happened up here."
A dozen voices began talking; more joined in and several men began shouting to make themselves heard. Ramage listened carefully. There seemed to be no quarrelling; although he could not distinguish the words he was sure they were all agreeing with some decision. Suddenly there was a silence broken by the same Spanish voice.
"You will kill us if we surrender?"
"Of course not. You will be prisoners."
"How can we be sure you will not kill us?"
"You cannot be sure, " Ramage said, "but we have just been saving the lives of some of your shipmates by pulling them out of the water. Do you want to talk to them?"
There was a clatter of cutlass blades. Were they fighting or tossing away their weapons?"
"We surrender, " the voice said, "and I will lead the men up."
Ramage turned to Aitken and said quietly: "They've surrendered and are coming up in a moment. Have the men with muskets stand by." With that he walked aft to tell Southwick, and then went up to the quarterdeck to collect his thoughts. Three shadowy figures followed him, and as he paused by the binnacle Ramage, startled for a moment, recognized them as Jackson, Rossi and Stafford, who had obviously appointed themselves his bodyguard. It was a sensible precaution; half a dozen desperate Spaniards could be lurking anywhere in the ship, and by now they would have recognized which of the disreputable-looking men was the leader.
Gradually his night vision returned. The lanterns on the main deck were throwing a lot of light, but by facing aft he found he could first pick out the great black peak of Santa Fe, then the hills on either side of the entrance channel. Then he saw a grey patch, moving very slowly if it was moving at all. Gradually the patch became an outline, and he recognized the Santa Barbara lying hove-to.
Wagstaffe was in position, the Jocasta had been captured, and the first half of the plan had succeeded. But it was the easier half; many a schoolboy had found to his cost that it was easier to climb up a tree than down.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Fifteen minutes later Ramage settled himself comfortably at the desk in the captain's cabin of the Jocasta and grinned at Aitken and Southwick, who were sitting on the settee sipping cups of coffee.
"This is poor stuff, sir, " Southwick said, squinting in the lantern light. "These foreigners don't have the right quality beans to start with."
"Aye, there's no body to it, " Aitken commented. "Still, we shouldn't be complaining, I suppose."
"It'll make a tale to tell your grandchildren, " Ramage said. "We shan't be able to tell the Admiral because he wouldn't believe it."
"I wouldn't blame him, " Southwick said after draining his cup and putting it down on the deck beside him. "'What did you all do after sailing into Santa Cruz with the Calypso and seizing the Jocasta?’ 'Well, sir, Captain Ramage found the Jocasta's galley fire was still alight, so he ordered hot soup for the men and coffee for the officers.'