All that night and the following day the Dido tacked and wore to the north-west of Cabrit Island, but there was no sign of the convoy. Ramage would have worried that the ships had come in round the north of the island but for the fact that the Scourge was still off Fort Royal and would come south immediately to warn if any ships arrived.
The fine weather continued but the wind fell light. The sea was almost flat calm, with just a slight swell from the east, and overhead there was the scattering of balls of cotton as Trade wind clouds made their way westward in even lines, like marching soldiers. Flying fish flashed up from the depths, skimmed above the waves and then vanished as effortlessly as they came. Gulls mewed pitifully in the Dido's wake, as if pleading to be thrown scraps, and the black and menacing frigate birds curved and dived gracefully, swooping down almost faster than the eye could follow to pursue a flying fish or snatch up a piece of rubbish from the sea, careful never to get their feathers wet.
The ship's company had spent the morning exercising at the guns. It was tedious for the former Calypsos, Ramage realized, but the new Didos had to reach their standard, and only constant exercise would do that. And all the time Ramage was waiting for a hail from the lookout aloft, reporting sail rounding Cabrit. There were times when it was as much as he could do not to seize the speaking trumpet and hail the lookouts. He cursed the fact that he had been born impatient: he wanted the action to start.
Southwick took his hat off and ran his fingers through his flowing white hair. 'This light wind must be delaying them,' he said, 'I can just imagine the trouble those French frigates are having with the mules. I'll bet they're the same as our merchantmen - reefing right down at night, falling astern, and not getting back into position until noon.'
'You sound as though you have unhappy memories of convoys,' Ramage said jokingly.
Southwick sighed. 'Is there any naval officer alive, British or French, that remembers convoy work with affection? D'you remember that convoy we took to England from Barbados, when we met that frigate commanded by a madman?'
'I'm not likely to forget it, since it led to me being court-martialled. I remember it because of the trial; I suppose you remember it for other reasons.'
'Well, of course I remember the trial, sir, but it was the last time those mules had a chance of driving me mad!'
'You'll recover in time,' Ramage said consolingly. 'Just think of other things - like flogging to windward down the Channel with snow flurries and leaking oilskins ...'
'That's done it,' Southwick said, laughing. '1 could just feel the cold water trickling down my neck, and my eyebrows begin to freeze up.'
'It's amazing how thinking about that can cheer you up,' Ramage said. 'It's one of the worst experiences I can think of.'
'It's worse for the topmen having to handle frozen ropes and sails. I get sorry for them, too!'
'Well, don't waste sympathy on Frenchmen jogging along comfortably in the Trades with reefed sails at night,' Ramage said. 'They're not only upsetting the French frigates, but they're annoying me!'
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, with the men aloft exercising at sail handling, this time sending down a topsail and hoisting it again, all against Ramage's watch. It was hot work in the Tropical sun but the men, naked to the waist and now well tanned, enjoyed it.
'Next time we'll send down the yard as well,' Ramage told Aitken. 'If these Frenchmen don't arrive soon, we'll have them sending down the yard at night. I want the men as used to doing things in darkness as in daylight. We were lucky in the action against the Achille. Next time we might not be so lucky.'
At dusk the lookouts were brought down from aloft and, with more men, stationed round the ship. At the same time the drums beat to quarters, so that the Dido met the night ready for action.
When the time came to stand down, Ramage gave orders that the guns were to be left loaded and run out. The big disadvantage of a seventy-four, he reckoned, was that it took a quarter of an hour for the men to get to quarters and be ready for action, against the five minutes it took a frigate. If the French suddenly turned up in the darkness he could ill afford to waste fifteen minutes while the men went to quarters. They would have to sleep by their guns.
A new moon cast a watery light, and it was setting fast. The sky was clear and Ramage knew he could look for some starlight. The wind was still light - the Dido was making a bare five knots off the wind - and there was very little sea, the earlier swell having subsided. It was, he thought bitterly, a night more suited to lovers than war.
As the Dido headed north-west, the wind on her starboard quarter, there was a downdraught from her mainsail which made the night almost chilly as Ramage stood on the quarterdeck. The sails gave an occasional desultory flap as the wind faltered and then picked up again. The masts occasionally creaked as the ship gave a lazy roll, and the beams groaned in sympathy. Apart from the downdraught, the air was warm and damp and several of the men on watch were not wearing shirts.
Kenton was the officer of the deck and every fifteen minutes he called to the lookouts to make sure they were still wide awake. As a midshipman he had learned to doze off standing up, and he knew it was a skill that most seamen possessed. Thinking of dozing reminded him of the seaman's slang for having a sleep, 'taking a caulk'. Sleeping on the bare deck in a warm climate, when the caulking in the seams between the planks was soft, usually meant that the sleeper woke with lines of pitch marking his shirt and trousers - a sure sign that he had been 'taking a caulk'. Indeed, the expression for 'Do you want to talk or sleep' was 'Yarn or caulk?' On a night like this the pitch was warm enough to mark a man's shirt; indeed it was warm enough to settle in the seams and make sure they did not leak if there was a sudden downpour. And downpour was the right word, Kenton thought. Frequently the tropical rain was so heavy that it was impossible to see the fo'c'sle from the quarterdeck, and it would stop as suddenly as it started, and in a few minutes the sun would be shining, hot enough to send the water back up again as steam. Men out on deck during the rain did not bother to change their clothes: the sun and breeze dried them in minutes.
How unlike the Channel, he thought. Such a downpour usually came after hours of heavy cloud and cold winds: men soaked to the skin would be shivering uncontrollably - and the officer of the deck would give them permission to go below and change into dry clothes, if they had any left. Usually they had not, and they just shivered for the rest of their watch.
Yes, the Tropics had many advantages, including - in some ships - quick promotion, as officers died off from yellow fever, or some other vile disease. Mr Ramage's ships stayed healthy, so there was no promotion - and, Kenton thought, no risk of getting the black vomit, which killed as surely as a roundshot knocking your head off. Kenton knew of frigates that had been hit so badly by the black vomit that there were barely enough men left alive to bring the ship back to port.
What caused it? When a ship was first hit it was usual, if possible, to sail: there was some talk that the fresh sea air helped stop the disease spreading. What truth there was in that Kenton did not know; about the only advantage that he could see was that the mosquitoes would not bite as hard.
That, as well as the disease, was another thing he did not like about the Tropics: in port - especially in unhealthy and swampy spots like English Harbour, Antigua - the mosquitoes swarmed on board and bit, turning one's wrists and ankles into itching masses. And at night it was hard to sleep as they buzzed round one's head, ready to swoop and bite.
Mosquitoes, and the things the local people called sandflies, which were hard to see and which bit like red-hot needles at dusk and dawn, were the curse of the Caribbean. There were no poisonous snakes, except in St Lucia, and only a few scorpions and centipedes, which would give a nasty bite if you were not careful. But they usually lived under rocks or in dark places; they were not (like mosquitoes and sandflies) a problem in a ship.
Kenton's eyes swept the coastline: he could just make out the black line of the land. Then he glanced up at the sails, which seemed almost luminous in the last of the moonlight. In fifteen minutes the new moon would have set, leaving the stars bright and the Milky Way a thick swathe across the sky.
There were many stars that could not be seen from more northern latitudes. The Southern Cross would not be rising yet, and he had to admit that his first sight of the Southern Cross had been one of the disappointments of his life. He had expected stars which were very bright in the sky, stars that one would know at once, as bright as Mars or Sirius. Instead, the Southern Cross had to be pointed out, a diamond shape of four stars - well, five, but it was hard to see the fifth in this latitude - low on the southern horizon. Perhaps they became more startling if one sailed into the southern hemisphere, but from the latitude of the West Indies they were a sad disappointment.
His thoughts were interrupted by the thudding of feet, and a moment later a breathless sailor stood in front of him. 'Brewer, sir: lookout on the larboard quarter. Me and Jarvis - he's on the starboard side - can see a ship just rounded the island, and there may be more: hard to see at the moment.'
'Very well, go back to your post and keep a sharp lookout.' Kenton looked round for a midshipman and told him: 'Quickly, go down to the captain and report a ship in sight near Cabrit.'
He looked for another midshipman and ordered him: 'Find the drummer of the watch and tell him to beat to quarters.'
What else? Kenton could think of nothing: helm orders would await the captain's arrival on deck. With only the topsails set they were already down to fighting canvas; the guns were already loaded and run out, and any moment the drummer would be striking up. Why did he feel more excited when the Dido went to quarters than he ever did in the Calypso! Perhaps the sheer vastness of the ship. Perhaps the knowledge that there were so many more guns - thirty-seven on a broadside.
He picked up the nightglass and went to the ship's side to peer astern. The nightglass was a mixed blessing because it gave an upside-down picture. He could see the land of Martinique running down to the south but it was inverted, looking like dark clouds. And yes, floating upside down, there was the vague blur of a ship. Damnation, those lookouts had sharp eyes. He moved the glass a fraction and thought he could distinguish other vague blurs astern of it, but he could not be certain.
The captain arrived on the quarterdeck just as the drum started chattering out its urgent order, and Kenton made his report, handing over the nightglass. Ramage snatched it up and went to the ship's side for a clear look astern. It took only a few moments for him to distinguish the ship and be almost certain that others were following her.
'Wear ship and head for her, if you please, Mr Kenton,' he snapped. The outline was familiar enough: the ship was a frigate, and as he had expected, she was leading the convoy round to Fort Royal. She would be burning two or three sternlights and the convoy would be following like ducklings after their mother. Where were the other frigates? Was there a ship of the line? How many merchantmen were there? What did the French make of the non-arrival of the Achille and the Alerte?It obviously had not affected their plans.
Slowly, with sails flogging until they were sheeted in and the yards braced, the Dido turned, with Kenton calling helm orders to the quartermaster. By now Ramage had been joined by Aitken and Southwick, both buckling on swords.
Ramage asked Aitken: 'Are you sure that plan for boarders is going to work?'
'Rennick was confident, sir, and our seamen seemed to understand.'
Ramage was worried about the prize crews they had selected during the afternoon. In anticipation of capturing several merchant ships, Ramage had selected a midshipman, five Marines and ten seamen for each of ten prizes he hoped they would capture: the midshipmen had orders to make for Barbados, and all the parties were numbered. Although in theory the cry of a particular boarding party should bring the men running, in the excitement and the darkness Ramage had his doubts, but he knew speed was important.
Southwick, who had the nightglass, said: 'That's a frigate all right, and I can make out four ships astern of her, but there may be more rounding the island.'
A midshipman came up and reported something to Aitken, who turned to Ramage and said: 'The ship's at general quarters, sir: all the guns are manned, the gunner's at the magazine, and the fire engine is manned.'
The fire engine was the result of Ramage's last orders of the afternoon: he was determined to set fire to any merchantmen he could not take as prizes, and he did not want the risk of flying sparks causing a fire on board the Dido. Seamen feared fire more than leaks, which was hardly surprising when one realized how much gunpowder was stowed in the magazine - more than twenty tons of it, enough to blow half a dozen Didos to pieces.
'Five ships,' Southwick said suddenly. 'I can see five ships as well as the frigate. Can't make out what they are, though.'
Well, Ramage thought to himself, there's no doubt that this is the convoy, the only question mark is how big is the escort. They would most likely be following astern, which suited him very well. But how long would it be before the frigate spotted him against the dark outline of the land to the north? More to the point, the frigate would probably assume the Dido was the Achille. She was expecting the Achille, and what more likely than to find her coming down from the north, admittedly late but arriving at last. Very well, that would all help the Dido achieve surprise. In the darkness both ships would look similar. The Frenchmen would be very relieved to see the Achille and, no doubt, only too willing to hand over the job of piloting the merchantmen to her, since she would know these waters well.
The wind was freshening, and a few small clouds were coming off the land. The Dido was rolling slightly and occasionally a startled gull flew by, screaming as though protesting at being disturbed. By now the moon had set and they had to rely on the starlight.
Now he could just distinguish the frigate with the naked eye: not a ship but a small dark blob on the southern horizon, dead ahead, and only visible to one side of the jibboom and bowsprit when the Dido yawed. Ramage waited for the group of lights hoisted in the frigate which would be the challenge - probably a pattern of three lights, lanterns hoisted on a triangular frame. But for the moment there was nothing; the two ships were approaching each other darkly and anonymously. Every minute, Ramage knew, was to his advantage: it increased the margin of surprise.
But time was passing quickly. The Dido was making five to six knots in this light breeze, so the two ships were approaching each other at a combined speed of ten to twelve knots. The frigate's bottom was probably foul - not probably but certainly - after the Atlantic crossing, encumbered with goose barnacles and weed, but no more than the Dido's, so the fouling just about evened out. Weed and barnacles wait for no man, he thought grimly, slowing up the best of ships, despite the copper sheathing on the bottom.
Southwick was still searching the southern horizon with the nightglass. 'The frigate and six ships so far,' he announced. 'I reckon all seven are merchantmen, but I can't be sure yet. It's a pity we haven't got a moon.'
Ramage looked again at the frigate and found he could now distinguish her outline. Still no challenge, still no sign - since she must have spotted them by now - that the frigate suspected she was anything but the Achille sailing down to help shepherd them all in to Fort Royal.
'They seem to be playing follow-my-leader,' Southwick reported. 'One following the frigate - she'll be burning a stern lantern - and the rest strung out astern. Like fruit on a bough, ready for plucking. The only trouble is they'll disperse the moment we start firing at the frigate.'
'They won't get very far,' Aitken said. 'The wind is too light to move these mules very far. And they're probably reefed down, too; you know what merchantmen are like at night.'
'We'll soon see,' Ramage said. 'We're approaching the frigate quite fast now. This breeze is slowly strengthening.'
'What I'd give for a bit o' moonlight,' repeated an exasperated Southwick. 'Trying to judge with the upside-down image in this glass makes my eyes go funny.'
'We'll attack the frigate to starboard, so we don't get blinded by our own smoke. Warn the guns, Mr Aitken.'
The first lieutenant sent one of the midshipmen below while he shouted up to Orsini on the poop.
Ramage saw the frigate dead ahead again as the Dido yawed slightly. By now Jackson had taken over as quartermaster, and Ramage gave him a helm order which brought the frigate round to fine on the starboard bow: on this new course they would pass her about fifty yards off. Just the right range for the gunners, Ramage thought, but far enough not to alarm the frigate if she was in fact still under the impression that the Achille was approaching.
He could imagine the clicking as the second captains cocked the locks on the guns: the captains would be standing behind them, firing lanyards held in their right hands, ready to drop on one knee as the frigate loomed up close. Well, they had some experience of a night action; he only hoped that what they had learned attacking the Achille was going to stand them in good stead tonight.
The range was closing fast now and, after another look at the frigate, Ramage told Aitken: 'Tell the gunners they'll be opening fire in about three minutes.'
Still no challenge from the frigate: well, that bit of carelessness on their part was going to cost them dearly: had they challenged, the lack of a correct reply would at least have warned them.
'Another merchantman rounding the island,' said Southwick. 'But maybe she's a frigate.'
'Eight ships,' mused Ramage. 'Quite a good-sized convoy, and there may be more escorts.'
Ramage gave another helm order to Jackson and the men at the wheel turned it a couple of spokes. The frigate was barely two hundred yards away and Ramage could see that she had everything set to the topgallants. Her rigging now stood out spidery against the stars; there was just a hint of phosphorescence at her stem as she butted her way through the water.
It seemed almost unsporting, Ramage told himself, to come out of the darkness and fire a broadside into the unsuspecting frigate; but this was war, and if one was careless the price was usually heavy.
Ramage moved a few steps on the quarterdeck so that he could see the frigate clear of the Dido's jibboom and bowsprit. A hundred yards. Fifty yards. Still the frigate ploughed on, obviously thinking that the seventy-four approaching on her starboard bow was the Achille. Twenty-five yards. A ship's length. Ramage imagined the Dido's gunners taking the strain on their trigger lines.
The crash of the first guns of the broadside came as a shock even though he was expecting it: a series of blinding flashes and muffled explosions and the rumble of the guns flinging back in recoil. Finally the last guns in the broadside thundered out as Orsini's carronades swept the frigate's decks, spraying them with a deadly hail of caseshot. Ramage thought of the unsuspecting Frenchmen standing about on the frigate's deck; then he reminded himself that if the position had been reversed the French would have shown no mercy.
There had been plenty of hits on the frigate: it was almost impossible to miss at this range, and he had imagined he had heard the shot crashing into the hull. Now, in response to his hurried order to Aitken, the Dido wore under the frigate's stern and prepared to come alongside, firing another broadside. The sails slatted and cracked, the yards creaked as they were braced round and the sheets trimmed. Ramage could hear Orsini's gunners shouting with excitement as they crossed the poop to man the larboard carronades.
For once Ramage felt remote from the action. Perhaps it was a bit too cold-blooded, perhaps there had been little excitement before opening fire, but there was something lacking. He found himself thinking of the frigate now about to receive another broadside when she had just had one smash into her. Well, he thought grimly, if it was a French seventy-four attacking the Calypso the French would not be feeling squeamish.
Once again the Dido's broadside crashed out, the flashes destroying his night vision but lighting up the frigate perfectly so that he could see every detail of her rigging and sails and observe that her hull was painted black with a wide red strake.
Suddenly amid the gunfire he could hear a French voice shouting through a speaking trumpet. He thought for a minute that it was hurling defiance, but as the last half of the broadside crashed out he realized that the man was surrendering. He called to Aitken to stop the guns firing and shouted a helm order to Jackson so that the wheel was put over and the Dido turned into the frigate, crashing alongside her.
At last the guns stopped firing as the two midshipmen sent below by the first lieutenant managed to pass the word to the officers at their quarters. Ramage himself shouted up to Orsini to stop the carronades firing again, but only made himself understood after several of them had gone off. By now the two ships were grinding against each other and Ramage told Aitken: 'Get the first boarding party over: tell Rennick to add ten Marines.'
Even with the extra Marines it was not a very large prize crew to take command of a captured frigate, but if the French tried any tricks, he thought grimly, the threat of another broadside would probably bring them to their senses.
He watched as the boarding party scrambled down to the frigate - whose name he had noticed was the Sirène - and he wished he could have sent Hill along as well, so that his French would make sure that orders were obeyed quickly, but felt he could not spare an officer from his quarters with a lot more shooting still to be done.
He suddenly remembered the stern lanterns and snatched up the speaking trumpet. He then realized that leading a prize crew taking command of a frigate was too much for a midshipman, and decided that after all Hill would have to go.
'Send Hill over to take command of the frigate,' he told Aitken, 'and tell him to douse the stern lanterns. Then put the frigate's wheel over otherwise we'll never get free of her.'
Another midshipman was sent below to fetch Hill, who suddenly appeared on the quarterdeck. Ramage repeated his orders and added: 'If we don't see you again make for Barbados. I'll send the Scourge to collect you. If you see any merchantmen they'll be the ones we've captured, so escort them.'
Hill, delighted at once again commanding a prize frigate, eagerly scrambled over the side of the Dido and down on to the frigate's deck. Ramage could just make out movement on board the frigate as fighting lanterns were brought up from below. In the starlight he could see that most of the boats on the booms had been smashed and a thirty-foot length of bulwark beaten in, making an unsightly kink in the frigate's sheer. But it was too dark to see other damage and anyway Ramage knew that most of it would be below decks, because the Dido's gunners had orders to fire into the hull. The boats had probably been smashed by the carronades, whose task was to sweep the decks, killing men and cutting rigging.
Ramage looked astern and could just make out the first of the merchantmen faithfully following in the frigate's wake. Their masters must now be in something of a panic: they had suddenly seen their pilot attacked by an unknown ship, and Ramage thought it very unlikely that they had charts for the voyage up to Fort Royal - charts on a large enough scale, anyway.
By now Hill should be putting the frigate's wheel over, turning her to larboard so that she came clear of the Dido, which in turn would be turning to larboard as she wore round to tackle the first of the merchant ships.
'That was a wise move sending over Hill as prizemaster,' Southwick said. 'He'll be quick to spot if the French try any tricks. You never can tell with these Frenchmen: once they haven't got us alongside pouring broadsides into them, they might get their courage back ...'
'That's just what I thought,' Ramage agreed. 'That's why I sent over some extra Marines.'
By now Aitken was giving the orders which wore the ship, and once again the sails slatted as she turned. Ramage changed his position on the quarterdeck to get a better view of the first merchantman, and Southwick growled: 'I shall be very surprised if we have to fire a shot to take this one!'
Ramage had already reached the same conclusion and was conning the Dido round to come alongside the ship, within hailing distance. 'Pass the word that no guns are to fire without receiving orders,' he told Aitken, 'and make sure Orsini's carronades understand.'
Quickly the sheets were trimmed and the yards braced, and the Dido turned on to the same course as the merchantman and started to overhaul her.
'She's reefed down - can you believe it?' exclaimed Southwick. 'These mules are all the same, whether French or British.'
As the Dido began to overhaul the merchantman, Ramage picked up the speaking trumpet and went to the ship's side. As the bowsprit drew level with the merchantman, Ramage bellowed in French: 'Surrender - or I'll fire a broadside into you!'
He quickly reversed the trumpet and put it to his ear, and almost immediately heard an agitated yell: 'We surrender . . . we surrender!'
'Heave-to - I'm coming alongside,' Ramage shouted back, and gave a quick helm order so that the Dido turned slightly, her big hull with its pronounced tumblehome crashing into the side of the merchant ship.
'Get that second boarding party over,' Ramage snapped at Aitken, and while the two ships pressed together a midshipman led his mixed party of seamen and Marines, jumping down several feet on to the deck of the merchant ship. Ramage waited to see that they were in control and then ordered the Dido to wear.
Once again the Dido repeated the manoeuvre which had separated her from the frigate, and Southwick said: 'Six more merchantmen and another frigate.' With that he snapped the nightglass shut.
'Let's hope these merchantmen give no more trouble than that one,' Ramage said.
'Yes, leave the frigate until last,' Southwick said. 'No chance of taking him by surprise!'
Ramage looked round for the next merchantman and pointed her out to Aitken, who conned the ship round until she was overtaking her from astern. Ramage picked up the speaking trumpet as the Dido's bowsprit drew level with the ship and then began to pass it.
'Surrender and heave-to!' Ramage shouted in French, but when he reversed the speaking trumpet to hear the reply he was startled by the stream of defiance and French obscenities.
He recognized the Gascon accent and the voice seemed very determined. He reversed the speaking trumpet and shouted: 'If you do not surrender I will fire a broadside into you.'
This threat brought more cursing and it was obvious the French master did not intend either to surrender or to heave-to.
Ramage thought for a moment. A broadside would almost certainly destroy the ship. He decided to give him one more chance. 'Heave-to or I'll blow you out of the water!'
More curses and shouts of defiance showed that the Gascon master was determined to take no notice of the British ship of the line almost alongside him and Ramage told Aitken: 'He refuses to surrender or heave-to. Give him a whiff of the carronades!'
Aitken called up to Orsini on the poop and a few moments later the carronades barked out, sweeping the merchantman's decks with caseshot. Again Ramage hailed through the speaking trumpet and received a shower of abuse in reply.
Very well, he thought to himself, you've brought it on yourself: the carronades gave you a taste of what to expect. 'Fire a broadside into him, Mr Aitken,' he said. 'I've given him four chances to surrender.'
The flash and crash of the broadside caught him unawares, before he could close an eye, and he was blinded for several seconds. He had just heard Southwick exclaim: 'Look, she's afire,' when he saw flames coming up her forehatch. The hatch cover had obviously ripped off and the flames were lighting up the foot of the sails.
He shouted to Jackson to turn two points to starboard and then ordered Aitken: 'Man the fire engine!'
As he quickly looked round the flames began spreading and lighting up the night sky. He caught a glimpse of the surrendered frigate and merchantman ahead, and saw the string of merchantmen astern, their sails lit up.
The Dido seemed to be turning very slowly and already the flames were licking up the sails of the merchantman. Ramage could hear the crackling of burning wood and as, horrified, he watched the flames, the ship's foremast slowly, almost lazily, leaned over forward and crashed down on to the bowsprit.
This stopped the ship as if she had run into a wall, and the Dido continued sailing, passing her as she began her turn away.
'I hope she isn't carrying powder,' Southwick said.
'We're too close if she is,' Aitken commented.
'If she's carrying powder, her master is a fool,' Ramage said. 'You don't invite a broadside from a ship of the line if you've got powder in the hold. Even if you're a Gascon,' he added, half to himself, remembering the reputation that Gascons had for boasting - indeed, giving their name to the word gasconnade.
At that moment the ship blew up. One moment she was dead in the water, flames leaping up from her forehatch; the next moment she was a livid red flash.
Now the darkness seemed more intense.
Ramage suddenly felt sick. The Gascon master's stubborn behaviour, in spite of four warnings, had left him no alternative to opening fire, and he had no particular qualms about the ship being set on fire - the men could always escape in their boats - but blowing up like that, killing those who agreed with their master and those who, given the option, would have surrendered . . .
But there was no time for regrets: he gave orders for the Dido to tack and make her way to the next ship in the convoy. As soon as they were almost alongside her, Ramage called on her to surrender and heave-to. This time the master, having just seen what had happened to his next ahead, shouted his agreement and the Dido went alongside to put a prize crew on board.
As the Dido tacked to get clear and headed for the next merchantman, Ramage looked ahead carefully for the second frigate, but could not see her. 'Where's the other frigate?' he asked Southwick.
'I haven't looked for several minutes, sir, what with that ship catching fire and blowing up.' He opened the nightglass and put it to his eye. After a minute or two he said: 'That's strange, there's no sign of her. Just three more merchantmen, but not a sign of the frigate. D'you think she's bolted?'
Ramage shrugged his shoulders in the darkness. 'Couldn't blame him if he has. There's nothing much he can do to save this convoy.'
Southwick gave one of his famous sniffs but made no comment.
The last three merchantmen surrendered without any fuss, all three obviously intimidated by the fate of their countryman. With the last of the prize crews put on board, Ramage said to Aitken: 'We'll go and see how Hill is getting on with the Sirène.'
It took fifteen minutes to get back up to the Sirène, the Dido having to thread her way between merchant ships which were anyway clumsy sailers but were now being handled by inexperienced midshipmen with very few seamen.
Ramage hailed Hill, who had the frigate hove-to under a backed foretopsail. With the whole convoy now dealt with, Hill might as well carry a despatch to the admiral.
Ramage went to his cabin to write a rough draft of the despatch so that Luckhurst could make a fair copy. The report to the admiral was brief, describing how he had found the convoy, attacked it and captured one frigate and all the merchant ships. He regretted, he said, that a second frigate forming the escort had escaped in the darkness, and a merchantman refusing to surrender and apparently carrying powder had been fired at, catching fire and blowing up. He finished his draft with all the usual formalities and then called Luckhurst to make the fair copy.
He then went out on to the quarterdeck and told Aitken: 'I have a despatch for the admiral which must be taken across to Hill. Also, give him a hail and see if he has enough people. Send Orsini over with the despatch - tell him to make sure Hill is satisfied that he has everything under control.'
Paolo was soon back from the Sirène, reporting that Hill and his Marines had now secured all the prisoners and would be getting under way in about ten minutes, that he did not need more men and that the French were very cowed. 'Most of them saw the merchantman blow up,' Paolo said, 'and that knocked the stuffing out of them.'
Ramage waited with the Dido hove-to until he saw the Sirène's foretopsail sheeted home and braced sharp up as she bore up for Barbados. Then he said to Aitken: 'Set a course for Fort Royal: we still have some unfinished business there.'