The Ramage Touch Read Online Free

vessels they are. If we had frightened them, they’d have anchored here, under the guns of La Rocchette – the castle covers the anchorage on either side of the headland – not off Punta Hidalgo.’
    There were faint shadows across the deck now and Ramage glanced up from the chart to see the top edge of the moon just peeping up to the east, the hills and mountains of Tuscany making a horizon jagged like torn paper. With the anchored ships and Punta Hidalgo over to the east, they would soon show up well against the moonlight while the Calypso , approaching from the dark west, would not be seen until the last moment. When it was brighter in fifteen minutes or so the golden disc of the moon would make enough light to pick up the Calypso ’s sails, but what sort of lookout would the French be keeping?
    As if reading his thoughts, Aitken said in his soft Highland voice: ‘We can hope they all had a good tipple of wine before they turned in for the night. With a bit o’ luck any lookouts will be stretched out on the hatches, fast asleep.’
    ‘If they have lookouts…We’re probably the only British ship within a thousand miles. They can treat every ship they see as a friend. Of course, that makes it much easier for us – every ship we see is an enemy.’
    ‘Deck there!’ Jackson hailed, and when Ramage answered he reported: ‘Now the moon’s up I can see both ships anchored abreast of each other, sir, a cable or so between ’em, and a cable from the beach. Can’t make out what they are, though; just that the foremast is set well aft. Maybe it gives a bigger forehatch for cargo.’
    Ramage could just make out the vessels now, so there was no need for Jackson to stay aloft with the nightglass. At general quarters he was usually the quartermaster, watching the men at the wheel, the wind direction and the set of the sails. Ramage called the American down on deck again.
    Two enemy ships anchored off the beach and a couple of hundred yards apart…Even if they were keeping a lookout, the men would see only a French frigate approaching out of the darkness. The moon would show enough for them to recognize the cut of the sails and the sweep of the sheer. They would have no suspicions.
    He looked at the chart to get some idea of the depth in which the ships were anchored and then put it back in the drawer, motioned Aitken to stay and called to Renwick, the Marine lieutenant, who was just inspecting his file of Marines now drawn up at the after end of the quarterdeck. Even in the darkness the difference between the two men was striking: Renwick was stocky, round-faced and bustling. His every movement seemed military, like the jerkiness of a wooden puppet on strings. Aitken was slim and moved quietly – Ramage had no trouble imagining him stalking a deer in the hills of his native Perthshire, moving silently to avoid breaking a twig and always making sure he kept the animal to windward. Or even hanging silently over the bank of the Tay, reaching down into the chilly water to tickle a trout and knowing the water bailiff was close by.
    Both Renwick and Aitken were brave men, one a fine soldier and the other a fine seaman. Both had sailed with Ramage for long enough to know that he hated gambling with his men’s lives: he would take a chance when necessary but only after reducing the odds as much as possible. Many captains of frigates reckoned promotion depended on the size of the butcher’s bill after a successful action – losing a third of their men killed could mean getting a larger and newer frigate, or even a pat on the back from the commander-in-chief.
    One good thing about Mr Ramage, Renwick thought to himself, his last year in the West Indies had been quite fantastic – frigates and schooners captured, a whole French convoy seized, the surrender of the Dutch island of Curaçao taken and a Dutch frigate blown up – and all without losing more than about a dozen men killed. Mr Ramage himself had nearly been killed in