"Pope, Dudley - Nicholas Ramage 17 - Ramage and the Saracens 1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pope Dudley)

"I'll trouble you to bear away a point, Mr Aitken," he said in a voice which sounded oddly strangled.

"Aye aye, sir," Aitken said, his Scots accent thicker than Ramage had ever heard before. He watched the first lieutenant bring the speaking trumpet to his lips after snapping an order to the men at the wheel.

At that moment Southwick turned to Ramage, gave a prodigious sniff and commented: "They're a lubberly lot, these Frogs."

"And we should be suitably thankful," Ramage said.

"Look!" Orsini said excitedly, "there goes the other ship's foremast!"

They all watched as the mast fell forward, moving very slowly at first, and then crashing in a welter of wood splinters and dust, spreading the sails like a shroud over the fo'c'sle.

"Well, that evens 'em up; two masts each," Southwick grunted.

"We'll tack across their sterns, Mr Aitken: we need to get their names," Ramage said, thinking of the report he had to write. Describing the way that two French ships of the line had been dismasted and left wallowing helplessly alongside each other was going to be difficult enough, and it was straining credulity not to have their names.

The Calypso's sails slatted and banged as she tacked; sheets and braces were hauled home and she settled down on her new course which would take her diagonally across the sterns of the two crippled ships.

Ramage looked round the horizon. It was empty. What he needed now was a British ship of the line to heave in sight. Preferably two. Then they could take possession of the French ships and tow them into port, with the Calypso hovering round like a distracted moth . . . But the horizon was empty; the two ships were going to have to be left.

"Pity we can't take possession," Southwick growled.

"They might be dismasted but they still have their broadsides," Ramage said shortly. "One broadside could leave us like them!"

"True enough," Southwick agreed. "It's just that having two ships of the line lying there like that . . ."

'Ramage nodded but said: "I thought it would have been us."

He picked up his telescope as the two transoms came into sight. Slowly he spelled out the first name and Orsini wrote Artois on the slate. Then he saw the second name and spelled it out, L'Aigle. Neither ship - as far as he could remember - had been at Trafalgar. Which meant that almost certainly they were on their way back to Toulon after a visit to Egypt. Ramage shrugged his shoulders: it mattered little where they were coming from or going to: both had a lot of work to do before they could do anything but drift with wind and current.

Stafford, standing to one side of the breech of the gun and with a better view through the gunport, had seen the collision and had given an excited commentary. Until he had time to dash to the ship's side and look for himself, Jackson had not believed the Cockney, thinking he was indulging in some complicated joke.

What he saw left him speechless. When he found his tongue again he said: "And not a broadside fired! What do we do now -offer them a tow?"

"Yus," exclaimed Stafford. "Tow 'em to Toulon and get a reward from Boney!"

"Are we just going to leave them like that?" asked Louis, after looking through the port.

"I don't reckon we've much choice," Jackson said. "They may have lost their masts, but their batteries are still in place. Every gun loaded, too."

"I know how you feel, Louis," Rossi said sympathetically. "I'd like to go across and set fire to them."

Stafford laughed quietly to himself. "What a story we've got to tell. Two line of battle ships an' we didn't fire a single broadside."

"Bluff, that's what it was," Jackson said. "And carelessness on the part of the French captain. He tried to sidestep us when he saw we were after his bowsprit - and stepped right into his mate!"

"Very careless," Stafford said. "Look what a mess it's got him into."

"Got them both into," Louis said. "Neither would do as dancing masters!"