Very well, there was nothing worse than having Southwick walking round with a disapproving look on his face. Where was the speaking trumpet? He would just have time to include the topmen before they went aloft to reeve the lines for the grapnels. He gave a bellow which had every man turning to look up at him.
"Calypsos, I think the King would like to have that frigate (she's the Jason, by the way) back again before the reek of garlic stinks out the bilges. So we'd better retake her. It'll also mean we have a stronger escort for the convoy too, and yet more prize money. Not that any of you need it!"
Every man in sight seemed to be waving his arms and cheering and slapping each other on the back, so perhaps Southwick was right, though why fifty words, a sneer at the French and a joke about prize money should make any difference was beyond him. "So we'll board her," he concluded, "and I want the boarders away in a flash when the order is given. Once you are on board her, don't stand around gossiping; I want those prisoners secured quickly, otherwise it'll take all night to beat back to the convoy."
He tapped Southwick on the arm and nodded towards the quartermaster, who was continuing to watch the set of the sails and the compass and the four men at the double wheel. "Let's make sure we all know exactly what we're going to do," he said. "I don't want to have to be shouting orders at the last moment."
Southwick looked at him suspiciously. "You're not planning on leaving me behind again, are you sir?"
"Being left in command of a frigate is hardly 'being left behind'," Ramage said mildly.
"You know what I mean, sir, and you've used that argument at least a couple of dozen times. It's my turn now. Leave one of these youngsters behind - they all had a chance with those two," he added, nodding at the convoy where by now it was easy to see La Robuste and L'Espoir.
Southwick, old enough to be the grandfather of each of the officers and most of the petty officers and seamen, liked (indeed, craved) a good fight on the decks of an enemy ship as a drunkard craved a pull at a bottle except, Ramage thought ruefully, that he knew of a few drunkards who had been cured of their craving whereas Southwick's seemed to grow with each passing birthday.
"Very well, just this time. Martin or Kenton?"
Southwick shook his head. "I'd sooner see Wagstaffe left here, sir. The Jason's a well-found ship and looks to me as though she's commanded by a shrewd devil. Whoever stays on board here might . . . well -"
"- might have to take the convoy back to England, eh?"
Southwick grinned, but because that was what he had in mind he nodded. "We're all mortal, sir, and we've had a good run for our money."
"Very well, just listen to what I have to say to the quartermaster, then go down and find Wagstaffe. Tell him what I'm going to do and tell him he'll be left in command. And don't forget to collect that dam' meat cleaver!"
Southwick's enormous two-handed sword was famous. Most of the men in the Calypso carried a picture of Southwick, in some action or other, sweeping down the deck of an enemy ship, white hair flowing in the breeze, bellowing like an enraged bull and whirling the great sword over his head, scything his way through a crowd of the enemy as powerless to defend themselves against this apparent monster as a rabbit to evade a ferret.
Quickly Ramage explained to Southwick and the quartermaster what he planned to do, and both men nodded. There was nothing particularly subtle about it; both men understood that, given the circumstances, it was the only plan that stood a chance of success without a heavy loss of life.
Aitken and Wagstaffe both arrived on the quarterdeck together, and Ramage looked questioningly at the first lieutenant. "We haven't much time, Mr Aitken," he said.
The Scotsman recognized the tone because it was the nearest Mr Ramage ever came to being querulous, and he grinned cheerfully. "Lines for the grapnels are already rove, sir, and 1 have a couple of dozen men hidden below the bulwarks and securing the grapnels."
Ramage nodded. "Well, if I don't see them at work presumably the Jason won't. Now listen, the pair of you, this is what I intend doing." Quickly he explained that Wagstaffe would be in command of the Calypso. This brought an immediate protest from the second lieutenant that he would be left out of any fight and Ramage looked at both Aitken and Southwick. "There are times," he said with mock exasperation, "when I wish the three of you would go up on the fo'c'sle and settle all this among yourselves."
Southwick, fearing Ramage would change his mind, said hurriedly to Wagstaffe: "You're greedy. You had a good scrap with the last prizes and took command of one of them while I had to stay in the Calypso."
"Well, I am the second lieutenant."
"And I'm old enough to be your father and grandfather," Southwick growled, "and even if you are a commission officer, if you're not careful I'll put you across my knee!"
The remark was just enough to set them all laughing. Wagstaffe agreed it was Southwick's turn and looked serious when Ramage pointed out that having command of the Calypso gave him responsibility for the convoy, "Even though the captains of L'Espoir and La Robuste will take it from you the moment they know anything has happened to me."
Ramage left the deck for a few minutes, going down to his cabin and returning with a cutlass and belt slung over his shoulders and a mahogany case containing a brace of pistols. He knelt down at the case to load the pistols while Aitken hurried below, promising to collect Southwick's sword because the master was still busy with his quadrant.
Finally, as Aitken returned wearing his own sword and with a Sea Service pistol tucked in his belt, handing Southwick his sword and a pistol, Ramage told the master: "Put your quadrant away somewhere safe: we can rely on our own eyes now!"
Eyes, he thought bitterly, but not brain. What the devil was going on in the Jason?Was she really being sailed badly to lure on the Calypso?Why were all the men hidden - it could not be from fear of sharpshooters. At least the mythical Jason had a ship full of heroes to help him when he sailed in the Argo to find the Golden Fleece. Still, the equally mythical Calypso offered immortality and eternal youth to Odysseus when he was shipwrecked on her island. All of which, Ramage reflected, shows that recalling Greek mythology is a great help if you want to pass the time and keep your thoughts from getting occupied with more troublesome matters.
The Jason was on the starboard tack, with the wind fine on her starboard quarter. She would expect to be attacked on that side, from to windward, and no one but an idiot would attack from to leeward. From the Jason's point of view the Calypso would be unlikely to attack from to leeward because the wind would blow the smoke from her guns straight back on board, blinding her officers and choking the gunners. More important, if the Calypso attacked from to leeward, the Jason could drop down on to the Calypso, while the British ship would have to get up to windward to close the range. The weather gauge ... to many admirals they were the only three words that mattered, although they were as confining as a canvas straitjacket.
Yet those three words explained, Ramage reflected sourly, why several famous admirals had won peerages for what were tactical disasters, complete failures which the politicians (ignorant of tactics) had, by the judicious distribution of peerages and knighthoods, turned into great victories with stirring speeches in Parliament.
That was why Vice-Admiral Nelson had not made himself very popular among the Navy's senior flag officers: before his victories at the Nile and Copenhagen, it was enough for the admiral commanding a fleet to break the enemy line and capture three ships - then England rang the bells for a great victory and gave him a peerage. St Vincent took four ships in his victory - but two of those were captured by Nelson . . .