Ramage's Diamond (36 page)

His elation vanished as quickly as it had arrived. It was a splendid dream and no more because the French would never be lured into such a trap. It was eleven miles from Pointe des Salines to the Diamond and that would take the merchantmen a couple of hours to cover. This, in turn, meant that the French escorts had two hours in which to drive off the British ships. Drive them off, perhaps try to board and capture them, but certainly divert the convoy from the Fours Channel.

The French would not let themselves get trapped—unless they did not know the trap was there until the moment Ramage decided to spring it. His advantage was that he held the Diamond but the French convoy did not know it. It could act as a signal station as well as a battery.

He tried to control his growing optimism in case he had forgotten some obvious drawback. Again he put himself in the position of the senior officer of the French escort. Rounding Pointe des Salines he would only be able to see to the northward as far as the headland of Diamond Hill. He would not see two frigates waiting just round the corner, in Petite Anse d'Arlet, the second bay beyond the Diamond Hill headland.

Petite Anse d'Arlet would serve the purpose: it was just two and a half miles north of the headland of Diamond Hill and the same distance from the exit of the Fours Channel. But if the
Juno
and the
Surcouf,
waiting in Petite Anse d'Arlet, could not see the Diamond they would be as blind as the French.

He thought for a moment and glimpsed
La Créole
out of the corner of his eye. The French would not be at all surprised to see a French schooner stretching south a couple of miles off the Diamond Hill headland: they would recognize the hull and rig, and naturally assume that she was a French privateer coming down to meet them, or leaving Fort Royal on a cruise. What other explanation could there be, from a French point of view? None that he could think of: sighting a French privateer would seem like a good sign. It would suggest to the convoy that there might be no British frigates around at all and that Fort Royal was not being blockaded.

That would cheer them all up and they would surely be confident enough to follow the usual easy route and hug the coast all the way round to the Fours Channel to avoid the current. They might even notice the French privateer hoisting a signal—perhaps a single flag. They would not understand it but they would not worry. In fact the privateer could hoist a Tricolour. The French naval officers might joke about the casualness of privateer captains not identifying themselves, but they would have no reason to suspect that
La Créole
was no longer a French ship, and was flying the Tricolour up to the time of opening fire as a legitimate
ruse de guerre
…

Using
La Créole
as his lookout was a far better idea than relying on the Juno battery. It would allow the battery lookouts to signal round the corner to the
Juno
herself. He was now pacing up and down with his shoulders braced back. It was a splendid plan and it worked perfectly—if the Juno battery comprised ten 24-pounders instead of two 12-pounders and the Ramage battery had five 24-pounders and if he had five fully-manned frigates instead of two partly-manned and, of course, providing the French convoy had a weak escort …

But he had to make do with what he had. Anyway all this planning and fretting and fussing would probably prove unnecessary because Admiral Davis would arrive in plenty of time with the
Invincible
and some frigates or because the convoy would be late. On the other hand, a French ship of the line could be escorting the convoy and perhaps
La Mutine
had never arrived with the message.

He watched Southwick board from the jolly-boat and saw that Wagstaffe was on his way from
La Créole.
Aitken, Lacey and Rennick were already on board, so he went to his cabin to lay out the chart and measure off some distances and bearings.

By dusk, as he watched Aitken and Wagstaffe being rowed to their ships, he felt a little more confident. Lacey was preparing a cutter to take over the men who would form the rest of the
Surcouf
's ship's company. At least there were a dozen men who had been on board the former French frigate since she had been captured and, as Southwick had pointed out, by now they should know where everything was stowed.

The jolly-boat was on its way to the Marchesa battery with written orders for the Juno and Ramage batteries, telling them that they were not to open fire or in any way reveal their presence until either the
Juno
or the
Surcouf
made the signal. The petty officer was told to place the signal mast on the western slope of the peak, where the signals he made would be seen by
La Créole
to seaward but not by French ships approaching from Pointe des Salines.

The Master offered to work out a new general quarters, watch and station bill for the
Juno
's reduced complement, and Ramage accepted gratefully. He also accepted Aitken's suggestion that all the former Tritons should stay on board the
Juno.
“They bring you luck, sir,” the Scotsman had commented. “You've been through a lot with them and now's not the time to tamper with Lady Fortune.”

As Ramage went down to his cabin he felt guilty about poor Southwick. He had more than an hour's work dividing the men into various groups—fo'c's'le men, foretopmen, maintopmen, mizentopmen, afterguard, gunners—then he had to divide them into two watches, starboard and larboard, and finally give each man a number showing his place when the ship went into action, what arms he would carry for boarding or repelling boarders, his station for furling, reefing or loosing sails, anchoring or weighing, tacking the ship or wearing, making or shortening sail. It was a tedious job, but it meant a seaman who knew that his number was, for example, 16 could see from the bill that he was a foretopman in the larboard watch, and when going into action he was second captain of a particular gun, that under arms he would have a cutlass and a tomahawk, and for the rest of the evolutions the bill showed him precisely what he did on the fore-topsail yard. The
Juno
's original bill was for a full complement of

212 officers and men. Now Southwick had to make sure that every important task was performed using only 63.

He could hear the clop-clop-clop of the pawls on
La Créole
's windlass as the schooner weighed to resume her patrol and make sure that by daybreak she would be off Diamond Hill. By then the
Juno
and the
Surcouf
would be under way and heading for Petite Anse d'Arlet, where they would anchor and wait, watching
La Créole
for signals with even more concentration than a fisherman waited for the float on his line to twitch.

He wondered what the Governor of Fort Royal made of the various pieces of information he was receiving. By now cavalry patrols along the coast must be reporting a great deal of activity off the Diamond, and he might be speculating what the
Juno
had been doing while hidden behind the island. The patrols might have heard the ranging shots of the Juno battery, though it was very unlikely they would have guessed where they came from.

He was taking a risk that the Governor might find a way of warning the convoy, but it was a slight one. There were only two ways of passing such a warning—sending out a vessel in the hope that it would find the convoy, or making a signal once it was in sight of the coast. Well,
La Créole
's frequent looks at Fort Royal and the patrol off the coast made sure that no privateers escaped to raise the alarm, and there were no signal masts anywhere along the coast. If the French hurriedly erected one at Pointe des Salines—the obvious place—it would be spotted by
La Créole
and he could land Marines to demolish it. But in any case the commander of the convoy escort would not be looking for signals: he would know there were no regular signal stations and, not expecting to receive signals, he would be unlikely to spot any made from the shore. There was just a possibility that a small fishing vessel was available in one of the two little harbours on the Atlantic side of the island, but the chance of such a craft being able to beat out against the Trade winds to get to the convoy in time—for its position was not known—was slight enough for him to ignore.

No, as long as he could keep the door shut on the privateers in Fort Royal and keep a sharp eye open for any sign of a signal mast being erected along the coast, especially at Pointe des Salines, he had little to fear. Meanwhile the Governor must be a very frustrated man.

B
Y
eight o'clock next morning the
Juno
and
Surcouf
were anchored in the Petite Anse d'Arlet three and a half miles north-west of Diamond Rock. They were a few hundred yards off a beach on which a few tiny but gaily-painted rowing boats were hauled up on the sand, their nets draped over rocks to dry. Ramage saw a few huts beyond the fringe of palm trees but apart from the occasional whiff of a cooking fire there was no sign of life: the people in the tiny village had obviously decided to keep out of sight of the ships that had suddenly arrived in their bay.

To the north-east the high peak of Morne la Plaine separated them from Fort Royal Bay while more peaks trended south to end in Diamond Hill, overlooking the Fours Channel with Diamond Rock beyond.

In the bay the water was so clear that he could see the bottom at fifty feet: from the
Juno
's bow the cable was visible all the way down to the anchor. There was still a slight offshore breeze but that did nothing to shake Ramage's conviction that it was going to be a scorching hot day with very little wind. These were just the conditions he wanted once the French convoy rounded Pointe des Salines because the merchant ships would have little more than steerage-way. On the other hand light airs out in the Atlantic might delay the convoy's arrival for days.

As he walked the starboard side of the quarterdeck he reflected that the Master's log would record that the ship's company was employed “as the Service required” and Southwick would have nothing to worry about if the Admiral suddenly arrived alongside for an inspection. The decks were scrubbed and the hammocks stowed in the nettings round the top of the bulwarks with the long canvas covers well tucked in. The brasswork had been polished with brickdust and reflected the early sun; the capstan was newly painted after being used to hoist the guns. Men were carrying the grindstone below after putting a fresh edge on cutlasses, tomahawks and pikes.

Two 12-pounders had been shifted over to larboard because the three now on the Diamond had all come from that side. He was still not used to the empty port on the quarterdeck where the six-pounder that was now the Marchesa battery had once stood.

Short of men and short of guns, Ramage thought gloomily that on paper the
Juno
was more like a ship about to be paid off after a long commission than a frigate maintaining a close blockade of the most important French port in the West Indies. At least the paintwork gleamed, the rigging was ataunto and the sails in good repair.

He stopped his pacing and once again trained his telescope on
La Créole.
Not a flag was flying and none of the men's washing was strung on a line. From where she was now, Wagstaffe could see all the way down to Pointe des Salines.

A pelican splashed into the water so close by that it made him jump. He watched it through the port as it raised its great bill, gulping at the fish it caught and then resting. It reminded him of a portly bishop eyeing the port decanter circling the table towards him after a fine dinner.

Southwick came up, mopping his brow with a large, grubby cloth. “D'you think we might spread the awning, sir? It's so damned hot and we could have it down in five minutes if …”

Ramage closed the telescope with an exasperated snap. “Yes, by all means. The way things are going, we could give the men a week's shore leave.”

“You mustn't take on so, sir,” Southwick chided. “You can't expect the French to be on time and anyway the calm may also serve to stop us having to share 'em with the Admiral.”

Ramage stared at him, hardly able to believe his ears. Southwick grinned almost defiantly and murmured: “I'm certain
I
don't want to, and I'm sure you don't
really,
not if you think about it. Why sir, I can just see the
Juno
and the
Surcouf
escorting two brace o' French merchantmen into Bridgetown.”

“I've thought of it,” Ramage admitted, “but I've tried and failed to think of where we'd find the guards and prize crews.”

Now it was Southwick's turn to stare. “Why sir, we won't need guards. We can just turn the French prisoners loose on the beach opposite the Diamond and let 'em walk over the mountains to Fort Royal to give the Governor the glad news. Ten of our men can get one of those merchantmen to Barbados, even if it blows a gale of wind.”

Ramage took off his hat and wiped the inside of the brim. “Let's get the awning up before the pitch melts out of the deck seams.”

Petite Anse d'Arlet was probably one of the loveliest bays in Martinique. At any other time Ramage would have enjoyed spending a few hours anchored there and would have let the men fish or swim over the side. With a few Marines acting as sentries, the bos'n could have taken a party on shore for a wooding expedition: the cook's eternal complaint was that he was short of firewood for the coppers and soon would not be able to produce hot food. It was the regular complaint of every cook in the Navy and not to be taken very seriously, but wooding and watering, even though it meant finding a freshwater stream and rolling the heavy casks along the beach, was always a welcome task for the men and often, for a year at a time, the only chance they had of setting foot on land.