So the West Indies were, for him, a violent contradiction: the mysterious beauty of the belle of the night alongside the ugliness of a man dying from the black vomit; the glory of a flamboyant tree contrasting with the termite-ridden log lying beside it. And over it, war, always war. That secluded bay with the sparkling beach and waving palms could be an anchorage for enemy privateers; that sail on the horizon could be a French ship of the line. Like an animal in the jungle or a fish in the sea, one always had to be on guard: against the unknown sail and the unknown cloud - for an innocent grey cloud could in five minutes become a vicious line squall which, catching a ship all aback, might send her masts crashing by the board or shred the sails from the yards. And coral reefs and shoals - one watched the colour of the sea for the hint of pale green or brown that warned of shallows, reefs or rocks, for the waters of the islands were only roughly charted, and one's own eyes were the best charts unless you wanted to rip out the ship's bottom. Many a captain's first warning of a reef was the sight of a row of pelicans apparently standing on the water - whereas in fact they had their feet firmly on rocks a few inches below the surface.
Ramage walked aft to the taffrail and looked astern, where the ship's bubbling wake was a stream of pale green fire, like a meteor's tail, phosphorescence that no one understood but which was often bright enough to read by. In a few days he would be back in the West Indies, where promotion was often fast for those that survived, and he wondered how he would find Rear-Admiral Davis. One thing was certain: he would do his best to bring the Juno into Carlisle Bay so that no one could fault her.
CHAPTER FIVE
The cry of 'Land-ho!' from one of the lookouts aloft came just after nine in the morning, and the call from the quarterdeck 'Where away?' brought the answer that it stretched from two points on the starboard bow to three on the larboard.
Ramage sent Jackson aloft with a telescope to identify the land - none of the lieutenants had ever been to the West Indies before - and three minutes later Jackson hailed that Ragged Point bore one point on the starboard bow. Southwick nodded knowingly when Ramage glanced at him: it was the eastern point of the diamond-shaped island, and a perfect landfall. They would be in Carlisle Bay by afternoon. Barbados, nearly a hundred miles out in the Atlantic to the east of the chain of other islands, was much flatter; Southwick had once commented that it 'looked like the back o' the Wight', and indeed except for the palm trees along the shore it resembled part of the Isle of Wight.
They had in fact sighted the island late; even now Southwick was taking a bearing and horizontal quadrant angle to work out the distance off, but that was one of the problems of finding Barbados: the Atlantic rollers came smashing in on the rocky eastern shore, hurling up fine spray which drifted as a thin mist, borne inshore by the Trade winds and obscuring the land from seaward.
Well, it was there and it was Barbados all right, and in a few minutes Southwick would be giving the quartermaster another course to steer, a little more to the south-west. They would run along the south-east coast until they passed South Point and then bear up to pass Needham Point and turn into Carlisle Bay, where they would be expected because the watchtower would have reported them.
Ramage had a smug feeling as he looked at the land, now beginning to show as a low, grey-blue smear on the western horizon, with a scattering of cloud lying athwart the tiny Trade wind clouds. In the canvas bag on his desk was all the paperwork for the Admiral, duly completed. The various heads of department on board the Juno had written out their 'Demands for Stores', ranging from powder for the gunner and flax, reels of thread and plugs of beeswax for the sailmaker to shirts, trousers and shoes for the purser and rope and light cordage for the bos'n, along with detailed lists of provisions. The 'Abstracts of Remains' would tell the Admiral how much was left on board the Juno, while the 'Defects of Ship' which he had drawn up with Southwick and the carpenter was fuller than that normally rendered by a captain thanks to that Monday morning inspection.
The ship herself looked smart enough; smarter than would normally be expected after a voyage of nearly four thousand miles, The paintwork was fresh, not just scrubbed. Two days of calm had allowed men to paint over the side from stagings, and the black hull and distinctive pale yellow sheer strake glistened. The figurehead, the head and shoulders of a rather florid Juno, was newly painted, and Ramage had agreed that it should be protected by canvas for the last few days. The masts had been scraped and painted; the tips of the studding-sail booms had been painted black. All the serving on the rigging had been repainted, the big quarterdeck awning had been scrubbed. The boats stowed on the booms were newly painted and once again the black was shiny, with the yellow sheer strakes giving them a distinctive touch, matching the Juno herself,
Ramage looked at his watch. Three or four hours to go. Well, it was time to start the routine for going into harbour. 'Mr Aitken,' he said quietly, 'I'll have the sea gaskets off the yards and harbour gaskets on, if you please.' It was a small thing; many ships as small as frigates did not bother, but well-scrubbed harbour gaskets looked smarter; they added a flourish to sails given a 'harbour furl'.
The studding sails had been taken in so that the ends of the booms could be blacked, and he had decided not to set them again, but he noticed that the booms on the foretopsail yard had not been run out to their marks, and he pointed it out to Aitken.
He passed the word for the gunner. The sea was comparatively calm and the ship was not rolling, nor would she when she altered course. When the gunner reported, Ramage said: 'Make sure the guns are unshotted, Mr Johnson, get the half-ports off, and make ready for the salute.'
Southwick came up from below, still holding his quadrant, and when he gave the new course to the quartermaster Aitken shouted the orders to trim the yards round.
'What depth are we likely to be anchoring in, Mr Southwick?' Ramage asked.
'Eight fathoms, sir.'
Ramage turned to the First Lieutenant. 'Have the cables ranged, Mr Aitken, if you please and we'll be needing anchor buoy ropes for ten fathoms.'
He looked around for his coxswain. 'Jackson! Bend on our pendant numbers and hoist them. Those fellows in the watchtower will be having their glasses on us soon.'
The three flags would tell the men in the watchtower that the frigate's number was 367, and reference to the List of the Navy would show she was the Juno frigate, thirty-two guns. Ramage pictured the word being passed along the coast to Bridgetown, at the western end of Carlisle Bay, and no doubt Rear-Admiral Davis would wonder if the Juno was bringing him orders before going on to Jamaica, or whether she was another ship for his command. For sure he would have the name of her captain wrong: his Navy List would still give the old commanding officer, and the name 'Ramage, Nicholas' would be buried among five thousand other lieutenants.
Ramage watched as the yards were trimmed to keep the sails full on the new course. As soon as the Juno anchored in Carlisle Bay two boats would be needed - one to take him to the flagship, or wherever Rear-Admiral Davis had his headquarters, if he was living on shore, and another for Southwick to be rowed round the ship to make sure the yards were square. The lifts were marked but ropes stretched. Ramage wanted both boats hoisted out the moment the Juno was at anchor with her sails furled.