Free Ramage & the Saracens by Dudley Pope Page A

quoins newly positioned and the captains sighting along the barrels to make sure the elevation was correct, in a matter of moments the first gun was firing, followed in sequence by the rest of the guns.
    Ramage could see the grapeshot slamming into the yards as they lay across the deck. The main-yard slewed slightly as all the grapeshot from one gun smashed into the end.
    As Aitken shouted out the orders to bring the
Calypso
round again, Southwick gave a bellow of delight and snatched at Ramage’s arm. He was pointing aloft at the French frigate, and a few moments later Ramage realized what the master had seen: the French ship’s colours were being lowered. She was surrendering. Honourably so, Ramage thought: with those two big yards down on deck and unable to manoeuvre, it was only a matter of time before the
Calypso,
wearing relentlessly across her stern, pounded her to pieces.
    Ramage was just about to tell Aitken to order the guns to stop firing when he realized that a breathless sailor was standing in front of him. “Mainmast lookout, sir, I can’t make you hear,” he gasped. “There’s a French frigate coming down from the north, close in with the coast.”

CHAPTER FIVE
    A NOTHER frigate! This part of the Mediterranean seemed to have become a French sea! Ramage hurriedly passed the lookout’s report to Aitken and Southwick and tried to think clearly with the thunder of gunfire still numbing his brain.
    Le Tigre
had surrendered but there was no time to take possession of her: that probably meant that she would wait until she saw if her compatriot defeated the
Calypso
and then hoist her colours again. But what of the second frigate?
    There was no choice: that made the decision a lot easier, he thought grimly: no time for second thoughts or misgivings or, for that matter, doubts. He called Orsini, told him of the second frigate, and ordered him to warn the officers at their quarters, and make sure that all the guns were loaded with round shot.
    There was no chance of any tricks to gain surprise: the approaching frigate would have seen the gunsmoke, even if at this distance she could not distinguish the British colours. There were probably a few moments of doubt as they saw a French hull attacking a French hull, but the smoke would have been enough to send their men to general quarters: by now all her guns would be loaded and run out, ready to engage whichever of the two ships proved to be the enemy.
    â€œGet the boats hoisted out and towing astern,” he said to Aitken. That would reduce the risk from splinters.
    â€œIt’ll make a change,” grunted Southwick. “Just a ship-to-ship action, with no nonsense.”
    With his “no nonsense” Southwick dismissed actions against ships of the line and disabled frigates: the forthcoming action, he clearly considered, would be fought on equal terms, frigate against frigate. All else, his four words implied, was heresy; not to be considered by honest men.
    How to tackle this frigate? A battle of broadsides or try to board? Ramage picked up the telescope and looked at the distant ship. Yes, like
Le Tigre,
she was a 32-gun frigate, the same as the
Calypso;
gun for gun they would be evenly matched. How many men would she have on board? Like the British, the French were always short of trained seamen; but unlike the British they frequently drafted soldiers on board. It was not unusual to find a ship with half a battery of artillerymen serving the guns. With luck, Ramage reflected, if there was anything of a sea running, the artillerymen had to fight seasickness as well as the enemy, so their rate of fire was slow and erratic.
    But the sea was not rough; the brisk breeze was scudding clouds across the sun and knocking up white horses, but not enough to make a frigate roll or interfere with queasy gunners.
    He turned to Aitken: “Steer straight for her, and warn that the guns on the larboard side will probably be firing