It was difficult in a dispatch to persuade the Admiral of the importance of the batteries on the Diamond: unless he saw them in action, or at least firing at targets in the Fours Channel and westward from the Rock, he would never appreciate them. He would read in the dispatch that they sank La Prudente and disabled La Comète, but he would call it luck.

Ten men from the Juno in one merchantman, ten from the Surcouf in another: that settled it. The Juno's gunner could command one - he was sufficiently useless for it not to matter if the Admiral held on to him - and the bos'n the other. Wagstaffe would escort them with La Créole and would have written orders to bring the prize crews back as soon as the merchant ships were safely anchored and he had reported to the Admiral.

Then he remembered that there were now an extra nine hundred French naval officers and seamen, plus the crews of the seven merchantmen in Fort Royal. He took out his draft dispatch to the Admiral and added a paragraph pointing out that parole and exchange agreements aside, there were a dozen schooners in Fort Royal which could be manned by the former frigate crews. This, he added as the thought struck him, was why he was retaining the Surcouf for the present. He read the paragraph again. It sounded convincing; indeed it was the obvious and wisest thing to do.

He put the papers away and picked up his hat to go up on deck to relieve Southwick. It was a warm, starlit night, with the cliffs black to the eastward and the mountains beyond a vague blur. The Juno was making three knots, the water gurgling away lazily from her cutwater, the rudder post rumbling occasionally as the wheel was turned a spoke or two. Her wake was a bright phosphorescent path and occasionally a large fish leapt out of the water and landed in a splash of light.

Southwick went below, and his lack of protest at being relieved by the Captain showed that the old man was utterly exhausted. Jackson was the quartermaster, and although he could not see them Ramage knew that the six lookouts posted all round the ship were keeping a careful watch. On almost any other night there might be a chance of one man dozing on his feet for a minute or two, but never the night after a brisk action.

As he began pacing the starboard side of the quarterdeck he noticed a small figure walking up and down on the larboard side. It was Paolo, whose watch ended when Southwick went below. He was about to call to the boy to get some sleep when he realized that he was probably too excited and enjoying every moment of it anyway.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Dawn found the Juno two miles off Petite Anse d'Arlet, under way after being becalmed for three hours and with Ramage pacing the quarterdeck in a fury of impatience. The first lookouts aloft reported a frigate a mile to the north, still becalmed, and a few minutes later identified her as the Surcouf. Diamond Rock was out of sight behind the headland at the foot of Diamond Hill, and the devil knew what urgent signals might be flying from her signal mast.

Then the wind died again and the gentle curve in the Juno's sails flattened and the canvas hung like drab curtains. 'Bear away!' Ramage snapped at the quartermaster, anxious to turn the ship before she lost way altogether so that she would get the full benefit of any fitful puffs. It was hopeless trying to sail her close-hauled in a wind as light as this; better bear away two or three points and give the sails a chance.

'We could try wetting the sails, sir,' Soutbwick suggested.

Ramage glared at him. 'That's an old fish-wife's tale,' he snapped. 'It just makes them heavier.'

'The water fills the weave and stops the wind passing through, sir,' the Master said defensively.

'Damnation take it,' Ramage exploded, 'this wind is so weak it can't crawl down the side of a cliff, let alone get through the weave of stiff canvas.'

'Aye, aye, sir,' Southwick said mildly, knowing he had had twice as much sleep as the Captain who, the quartermaster had reported, had his light on for much of the night writing reports.

Ramage looked seaward with his telescope. 'Just look at that wind shadow over there. It's a mile away. It'll be noon before we get another puff here and in the meantime the whole damned French fleet could have arrived off the Diamond.'

'They would be becalmed too,' Southwick offered sympathetically.

'Not a chance! There'll be a nice breeze round Pointe des Salines and right up to the Fours Channel. It's just in the lee of these damned mountains -' he pointed to the half a dozen peaks between Morne la Plaine to the north and Morne du Diamant to the south ‘- that we lose the wind.'

At that moment his steward appeared on deck to report that his breakfast was ready and Ramage, who had already put it off twice, decided that his empty stomach was neither improving his temper nor extending his patience. He went below with muttered instructions to Southwick to call him the moment the wind piped up.

He washed and shaved, changed into clean clothes, ate his breakfast, reread the draft of his report to the Admiral and his orders for Wagstaffe, filled in his journal and wrote several more paragraphs of his diary-like letter to Gianna, and still no word came. The sun rose and the sunlight coming through the skylight made circles on the painted canvas covering the deck of his cabin as the Juno slowly turned in the current, like a duck feather floating on a village pond.

The clerk brought the dispatch and orders for him to sign and Ramage growled at him to sharpen his quill. Were the order and letter books up to date? he demanded. The clerk said they were. Were any more reports, inventories, surveys and the like outstanding? No, the clerk said, everything was up to date, including the weekly accounts. Ramage dismissed him, irritated that the man had nothing for him to do. At the same time he was amused. The clerk usually had great difficulty in getting him to deal with any paperwork.

The fact was that he was trying to avoid going on deck. The sight of the cliffs and beaches gradually drawing south as the current took the Juno north was almost more than he could stand. If only the current had taken the frigate out to the west, where they would get a sight of the Diamond . . .

On deck the ship's company went about the day's work. Hammocks had long ago been lashed up and stowed, decks scrubbed and washed down, awnings spread, brasswork polished and the brickdust carefully swept up afterwards. The gunner's mate had appeared with a request that he be allowed to start the men blacking the guns and shot and complained that much had been chipped off the previous day. Ramage, appalled at the thought of men painting coal tar on to the barrels of guns that might be needed within a few hours, refused and told him that if he was making work for the other gunner's mates they could sew up some more canvas aprons for the gun locks. Usually several were lost when the ship went into action. The gunner's mate had agreed in his doleful voice that indeed it did happen, owing to the carelessness of the men, but all the necessary new ones and a dozen to spare had been completed an hour ago. 'Report to Mr Southwick,' Ramage said in desperation, but the gunner's mate said he had already done so, and Mr Southwick had sent him to report to the Captain.

'Grommets,' Ramage said firmly. 'We need a lot more grommets.'

The gunner's mate's eyes lit up. 'Ropework is for the bos'n's mates, really sir, but my men will do their best.'

By ten o'clock Ramage and Southwick were pacing the deck together. The Surcouf was almost at the southern side of Fort Royal Bay, and the Juno less than a mile short of Cap Salomon, but there was not a breath of wind and the sea had flattened into a glassy calm. A dozen times Ramage had thought of hoisting out a cutter and having himself rowed down to the Diamond. It was only the realization that there was nothing he could do when he arrived there that made him finally dismiss it. If enemy ships arrived the only guns that could open fire at them were the Diamond batteries, and they could be relied on to do that anyway.