'Aye aye, sir.'
He put the speaking trumpet to his lips again and bellowed across the water at the French ship:
'Bon soir, messieurs!'
With the mouthpiece to his ear he heard, after what seemed an age, a puzzled 'Comment?' being shouted back from the Barras's quarter-deck. He could imagine their astonishment at being wished good evening. Well, keep the initiative.
'Ho detto "Buona serd'.'
He almost laughed at the thought of the expressions on the Frenchmen's faces as they heard themselves being told in Italian that they had just been wished 'Good evening'. There was an appreciable pause before the voice repeated:
'Comment?'
By now the Barras was not more than fifty yards away: the bow wave was sharply defined and he could pick out the delicate tracery of her rigging against the night sky, whereas a few moments ago it had been an indistinct blur.
This is the moment: once again he lifted the speaking trumpet to his lips. Now, he thought, let us commend ourselves unto the XVth Article of War and still take as long as we can about it, and he yelled in English:
'Mister Frenchman the ship is sinking.'
The same voice answered: 'Vot say you?'
'I said, "The ship is sinking."'
He sensed Jackson anxiously shifting from one foot to another. There was a strange hush in the Sibella and he realized the wounded were not making a sound. The Sibella was a phantom ship, sailing along with no one at the helm, and manned by tense and silent men.
Then through the speaking trumpet he heard someone say in French, 'It's a trick.' It was the voice of a man who held authority and who'd reached a difficult decision. He guessed the next thing he'd hear would be that voice giving the order to open fire.
'You surrender?' came back the question, in English this time.
Hurriedly Ramage turned his head towards the Bosun and called softly:
'Bosun - start chopping.'
He had to avoid a direct reply: if he surrendered the ship and then escaped the Admiralty would be just as angry as the French at a breach of the accepted code.
Putting the speaking trumpet back to his lips he shouted:
'Surrender? Who? Our wheel is destroyed - we cannot steer - we have many wounded...'
He heard the thud of the axes and hoped the noise would not travel across to the Barras: he must drown it with his own voice, or at least distract the Frenchmen's attention.
'We cannot steer and we have most of our men killed or wounded - we are sinking fast - we've lost our captain'
Damn, he couldn't think of anything else to say. Jackson suddenly whispered, 'Livestock's killed, guns dismounted, burgoo's spoiled...'
'Yes, Mister,' Ramage yelled, 'all our pigs and the cow have been killed - all the guns are dismounted'
'Comment?'
'Pigs - you've killed our pigs!'
'Je ne comprend pas! You surrender?'
'You've killed our pigs'
The devil take it, would that foremast never go by the board?
'The cow has been dismounted - the guns don't give any more milk - the pig's making water at the rate of a foot every fifteen minutes!'
He heard Jackson chuckling and at that moment there was a crackling from forward and a whiplash noise as several ropes parted under strain. Then there was a fearful groan, like a giant in pain, and against the night sky he could see the foremast beginning to topple. It went slowly at first; then crashed over the side, taking the yards with it.
'Wilson! the topsail and spanker!'
He saw the spanker being sheeted home to the boom end as the topsail was let fall from the yard. A few moments later, when he looked back at the Barras, she had vanished: He realized the Sibella was swinging round to larboard faster
of refugees, believed to be six in number, and who are named in the margin.
'From the information I have received, the Tower is not in use by the Neapolitan troops, nor occupied by the French (who are known to have passed through the area); and the refugees have arranged that a charcoal burner, whose name they have omitted to communicate to me but whose hut is one half a mile southward along the beach from the tower and five hundred yards inland, shall be kept informed of their whereabouts.
'Since negotiations will have to be carried on in the native language, the landing party should be under the command of Lieutenant Nicholas Ramage in virtue of his knowledge of the Italian language.
'Great importance is attached to the safety and well-being of these refugees in view of the influence they can command on the Italian mainland; and as soon as they and any others with them are safely embarked in His Majesty's frigate under your command, you are to make the best of your way to Rendezvous Number Seven, where you will find one of His Majesty's ships whose commanding officer will give you further orders for your subsequent proceedings.'
Hmm, thought Ramage, considering the length of the letter and details, 'Old Jarvie' really means what he says about the importance of these people: he was notorious for the brevity of his orders.