The Hundred Days

  Ringle did indeed outsail Surprise and Pomone, but not to such an extent as she might have done if Captain Vaux had not grown more used to the ways of his ship and had not so changed her trim, bringing her by the stern, that even in these moderate breezes she gained nearly a knot on a broad reach. The schooner was indeed just in sight from the masthead when they rounded Cape Santa Maria at dawn, but she soon vanished with the coming of the sun. It rose over the Montenegrin heights, and for a while the far coast remained sombre though the zenith was already a brilliant, quite light blue. This eastern shore was a coast familiar to Jack and Stephen: in the very same ship they had sailed up from the lonian Sea reasonably far along the Adriatic.

  They drew in with the land—a fine topgallant breeze on the larboard quarter—and presently the sea grew more and more populated with feluccas, trabaccaloes, merchantmen of various rigs and sizes making for the Bocche di Cattaro or emerging from the splendid great harbour, and with fishermen, some in fast xebecs with twenty-foot-long trolling rods out on either side, like the antennae of some enormous insect.

  One hailed the Surprise, and drawing alongside, pointed to their catch, a single tunny, but so huge that it filled the bottom of the boat—a fish that would feed two hundred men. The master, a jovial soul, called out to Jack, 'Cheap, cheap, oh very cheap,' and made the gestures of eating—of eating with delight.

  'Pass the word for the cook,' said Jack, and to the cook, who stood there wiping his hands on his apron, 'Franklin, nip down into the boat: look whether it is a today's fish, and if so, set a fair price.' Franklin was considered a judge of fish and a competent hand with the lingua franca.

  'Dead fresh, sir,' called Franklin, looking up from the boat. 'Still warm.'

  'Do you speak figuratively?' asked Stephen.

  'Anan, sir?'

  'Do you mean warm warm, as who should say a rabbit was so fresh killed that it was still warm?'

  The cook looked anxious, and made no reply; so Stephen scrambled down the side, tripped over the xebec's gunwale and fell on his knees in the tunny's blood.

  'Well, sir,' said the cook, setting him upright, 'now you've fair wrecked and ruined your trousers—which it will never come out—so you might as well put your hand in the place where they gaffed him and where all this blood is coming out of.'

  'By God, you are right,' cried Stephen, rising and shaking Franklin's reluctant hand. 'It is against nature—I am amazed—amazed and delighted.'

  The cook fixed the price in a passionate five-minute argument, referred it to the purser, who nodded, and then said to Stephen, 'By your leave, sir, by your leave,' as a double whip came down from the mainyard to hoist the great fish aboard.

  Stephen came up the frigate's side again, leaving traces all the way. 'That was wonderful, wonderful,' he cried, disengaging himself from Killick's officious hand. 'I must run downstairs for a thermometer.'

  The whole ship's company dined on that enormous fish; and this being Thursday, a make-and-mend day, they sat about on deck, some quite stertorous, all delighting in the gentle breeze that tempered the sun.

  'I can scarcely remember a more agreeable day,' said Stephen, looking up from his notes, '—and there, just above the high land behind Castelnuovo, is a pair of spotted eagles, almost exactly where I saw my first. I only regret that Jacob was not here to view, to experience the tunny's blood. But I shall read such a paper to the Royal, ha, ha . . .' He dipped his pen, took another draught of coffee, and wrote on.

  'Mr Harding's duty, sir,' said a midshipman, 'and the cutter is alongside.' Jack followed him, and looking down at the squalor he said, 'Well done, Mr Whewell. I do not think anyone would connect the boat with the Royal Navy.'

  'I hope not, sir,' said Whewell, surveying the grease, slime, plain filth and tawdry ornament fore and aft, the knotted rigging and the crew of flashily undressed criminal lunatics. 'I did not like to come aboard in quite this shape.'

  'The gun-room might have blushed at quite so much rouge,' said Jack. 'Well, shove off now, Mr Whewell, if you please. Fortunately the breeze is veering, and I do not think you will have to pull back.'

  Nor did they. The cutter was seen coming round the point at dawn, close-hauled and making a good five knots: her crew had spent much of their time cleaning the boat and themselves, and although neither sails nor rigging could do the Surprise any credit until the bosun and the sailmaker had taken her in hand again, Whewell did not hesitate in coming aboard, nor indeed in breakfasting with the Commodore and his surgeon.

  'Well, sir,' he said, 'there she was, lying in front of the old castle, as you said: but there were two armed polacres with her, or rather a polacre and a polacre-settee: both Algerines, I take it.'

  'How many guns did they carry?'

  'It was very difficult to make out, sir, the ports being closed and great heaps of sailcloth and cordage dangling over the sides, but I should say probably twelve for the one and perhaps eight for the other. Nine-pounders, I should imagine, though I cannot assert it. A great many people aboard.'

  'Shore batteries, I dare say?' Jack was not good at dissembling: Stephen noticed the artificial lightness of his tone, but gazed steadily at the coffee in his coffee-cup.

  'Yes, sir: one at each end of the mole. I did not like to be too busy with my glass, but I thought I could make out six emplacements in each. I could not speak to the nature of the guns.'

  'No, of course not.' A pause. 'Mr Whewell, pray help yourself to bacon: it stands at your right hand—the covered dish.'

  Chapter Five

  When Captain Vaux came aboard the pennant-ship in response to a signal he found the great cabin still comfortably scented with bacon, coffee and toast.

  'Good morning, Vaux,' said the Commodore, offering him a chair. 'Mr Whewell had just given me his report on Ragusa Vecchio, where that Bonapartist frigate is lying. As you know, she is moored by the mole in front of the old castle. She has been very short of stores and cordage, but now it seems probable that she has been supplied with them by her Algerian friends: there are two of them with her at present, a polacre and a polacre-settee, both armed and mounting perhaps a score of guns between them, nine- or at the most twelve-pounders. There are also two shore-batteries with six gun-emplacements each: how armed I cannot tell. Now if, as it seems probable, she has the cables and hawsers to allow her to put to sea, she is very likely to go off cruising with her Algerian companions: the present situation makes some people think that Napoleon will very soon be restored. So I think we should deal with this frigate at once. We will sail up the coast prepared for action and summon him: if he does not comply, why so much the worse for him. Or conceivably for us: he carries eighteen-pounders. But since today is a banyan day I have ordered beef to be served out instead of the dried peas, as being a better foundation for battle. You might consider of it.'

  'I too shall certainly order beef, sir,' said Vaux.

  'With this breeze and a steady glass, I believe we should raise Ragusa Vecchio at four or five bells in the afternoon watch. But there is this question of shore-batteries: Mr Whewell reports one at each end of the mole—come and look at the chart. Here we are. He could not tell what guns they mounted, but even nine-pounders intelligently fired—and generally speaking the French artillery is very good—could annoy us in our approach, knocking away spars and even masts. You have your full complement of Marines, I believe?'

  'Yes, sir: under a very capable, experienced officer, Lieutenant Turnbull.'

  'Well, that makes sixty-five between us: and it occurs to me that if we land them here'—he pointed to a small bay just south of Ragusa Vecchio—'they can cross the slight rise to the next beach and take the batteries from behind. The mole will protect them from the frigate's guns, once they reach it. Let our Marine officers consider the plan and tell us what they think. Your Mr Turnbull is the senior, I believe?'

  'Yes, sir: and he has led some remarkably dashing attacks by land.'

  'Very well: they will turn it over in their minds while we
are filling cartridge and rousing out our dreadnought screens. I think we should weigh at about four bells: that will give us plenty of time to have dinner quietly and clear for action with no mad frenzy.'

  So little frenzy was there, indeed, that when somewhat before the appointed time Stephen walked aft from the bows, where he had been watching a flight of Dalmatian pelicans, presumably from the Scutari lake, he found Jack Aubrey playing his violin in the cabin—a cabin that was already pretty bare, but by no means really stripped for action.

  Jack listened to his account of the pelicans, of the hundreds and hundreds of pelicans and their curious evolutions, no doubt associated with the mating season, and then said, 'I know little of birds, as you are aware; but let me tell you of a remarkable instance of humanity in our own kind: the Royal Marine officers waited on me to give their opinion of my suggested attack on the shore-batteries. They thought it an excellent scheme—were much pleased with the idea of tearing along under the shelter of the mole—but they proposed that just for this occasion, it being so uncommon hot, their men might be indulged in trousers rather than tight breeches and gaiters, and that they might take off their stocks.'

  Four bells, loud and clear; and Mr Harding could be heard, louder and clearer, giving the order to ship capstan bars. From that time on there was little point in playing the violin or even conversing, for although the capstan on the quarterdeck was not directly overhead, its bars, now in place, swept back almost to the wheel, and once the messenger had been made fast to the cable, once it had taken the strain and the bosun had cried 'Stamp and go' and a little wizened old forecastle-hand had leapt onto the capstan-head with his fife and played the tune of 'Round and round and round we go, step out my lads and make your feet tell 'em so', the whole space below was filled with a huge confusion of sound dominated by the rhythmic tread of the men at the bars and punctuated by innumerable cries, and by the indescribable sound of the great sodden cable coming in, attached by nippers to the messenger, and then, they being cast off, plunging heavily down to the tiers in the orlop where very strong men coiled it and stowed the great coils away.

  The frigate glided over the water quite briskly, then slower, slower until the bosun called 'Right up and down, sir,' and the officer of the watch replied 'Thick and dry for weighing,' a cry instantly echoed from the depths by the extraordinarily penetrating voice of Eddie Soames, the ship's eunuch, always good for a laugh.

  The Surprises, who had done this hundreds of times before, catted and then fished the anchor: this accomplished, they hurried to their stations for making sail: but no order came from aft. Both Jack and Somers had seen that the less skilled Pomones were having difficulty with passing the cat-hook: indeed, some had fallen from the cathead into the sea.

  'Thick and wet for weighing,' called Eddie Soames, 'Ha, ha, ha.'

  However, it appeared that they were soon fished out, for presently Pomone spread most of the canvas she possessed and somewhat later she assumed her proper position a cable's length astern of the Commodore: and thus they sailed easily along the coast, both ships now completely cleared for action—everything peaceable struck down into the hold, shot-garlands filled, screens in place over the magazines, deck sanded and wet, cutlasses sharpened and ready to hand, together with boarding-axes and pistols; while down below Stephen's operating-table (the midshipmen's sea-chests lashed together and covered with tight-drawn number eight sailcloth) was ready, the lantern hanging just so, and dressings, pledgets and coil upon coil of bandages tactfully covering the leather-bound chains necessary for some operations. To one side there lay the grim saws, retractors, tenacula, scalpels, bistouries (sharp and blunt-pointed), forceps, trephines, single-edged amputating knives and catlings, arranged with loving care by Poll and her friend the bosun's wife's sister, both of whom wore starched aprons, bibs and sleeves, and white caps. Buckets, and the usual lavish supply of swabs.

  They were sailing almost directly before the wind—not Surprise's best point of all, but one that nearly did away with any strong sense of motion; and the perfect regularity of the slight following swell added much to the dreamlike impression. Time scarcely existed, except for the succession of bells, and in spite of their martial appearance the remarkably well-fed crew tended to stare at the even, deserted coast as it passed slowly by quite close at hand, and doze. There was little sound from the ship at this gentle pace, and Naseby, shut up in the hold, could be heard howling from boredom.

  Jack, the master and Stephen were in the bows, the master holding an azimuth compass. 'It is my impression,' said Jack, 'that when we round this point we shall be in a shallow bay whose farther side overlooks Ragusa Vecchio. What do you say, Doctor? You have been here twice.'

  'If it has a low island in the middle of it, swarming with terns at this time of the year, then I am sure you are right,' said Stephen, 'since even from half-way up the further slope the tower of the ruined castle—the very top of it—can be seen.'

  'My instrument is not as accurate as I could wish,' said Mr Woodbine, 'but I am inclined to agree with you.'

  The two ships rounded the point, and there before them, to starboard, lay a shallow bay with a low island in the middle; and even from here the coming and going of innumerable birds could be made out, while Stephen, borrowing the Commodore's telescope without so much as a 'by your leave', and resting it on the cathead, named the species: 'Gull-billed . . . Caspian, what joy! Another . . . Sandwich . . . many, many common terns, dear creatures . . . little tern . . . black . . . I believe, yes, I believe he must be a white-winged black tern. I am amazed.' He turned to share his amazement, but found that he was alone. Boats were already lowering down from both ships, and the Royal Marines, their muskets gleaming and their red coats brilliant in the sun, were about to embark.

  The boats pulled away, loaded to the gunwales—Pomone's pinnace had ludicrously muffled its oars—steering for the shore immediately below the point where the tower of the ruined castle just broke the even skyline.

  They landed their men—scarcely more than a ripple on the strand—and then as the boats made for the northern tip of the bay, Jack made sail to recover them and so stood on. Five minutes later Ragusa Vecchio came into view, a decayed straggling village north of the ruined castle; and at the bottom of the bay the frigate in question, with the two Algerian vessels. Boats passing to and fro over the smooth water: the fine topgallant breeze still at southsouth-west.

  Surprise and Pomone both beat to quarters. Jack ordered colours to be hoisted and said to the master, 'Mr Woodbine, lay me twenty-five yards from her larboard bow and then back topsails. Doctor, be so good as to stand by to translate.'

  There was great activity aboard the French frigate, and they seemed to be casting off their moorings. The polacre had already won her single anchor and her companion was slipping her cable.

  The Surprise sailed between them and the Frenchman, backed two of her topsails and lay there rocking gently.

  Jack hailed the Frenchman with the usual cry of the sea, 'What ship is that?' his words echoed by Stephen Maturin.

  A remarkably handsome young man on the quarterdeck—post-captain's uniform and cocked hat, which he raised—replied, 'Ardent, of the Imperial Navy.'

  At this there was a universal and singularly impressive cry of 'Vive l'Empereur!' from the Ardent's company.

  'My dear sir,' Jack went on, returning the salute, 'France is now ruled by His Most Christian Majesty Louis XVIII—by my master's ally. I must ask you to hoist the appropriate colours and accompany me to Malta.'

  'It grieves me to disappoint you, sir,' said the Ardent's captain, now very pale with anger, 'but it would be contrary to my duty.'

  'It grieves me to insist, but if you do not comply we shall be obliged to use force.'

  During this time, lengthened by the need for translation, the Algerians had been making short boards: they now lay on the Surprise's larboard bow and quarter and their people were shrieking orders or advice.

  'Port-lids, both sides
,' called Jack.

  The gun-crews had been waiting for the word, and now the red-painted lids all flew up as one, while two seconds later the guns ran out with a deep echoing thump.

  The same happened aboard the Frenchman. 'Messieurs les Anglais,' called the Ardent's captain, 'tirez les premiers.'

  Who in fact fired the first shot was never decided, for once there had been a chance explosion aboard the polacre-settee, both sides went to it as fast as ever they could, a most enormous shattering din that echoed from the castle and the mole, gunfire that covered the immediate shore with a dense cloud of white smoke shot through and through with stabbing orange jets of flame.

  At first Surprise's fire was rather slow—she had not enough hands to fight both sides at once: but very soon the slight-built Algerines found they could not bear the weight of her shot and they retreated out of range.

  At first the roar of gunfire on the Ardent's side had been much increased by the shore-batteries, firing eighteen-pounders; but even in the tumult of battle the Surprises caught the rapid decline, and those with the odd seconds to spare nodded to one another, smiling, and said, 'The Jollies.'

  And scarcely had the Marines silenced the last of the batteries' guns than three well-directed shot, fired from Surprise's aftermost guns on the downward roll, pierced the Ardent's side, striking her light-room. There was a small explosion, the beginning of a fire, and then some seconds later a second explosion, enormously greater. A vast column of smoke and flame shot into the sky, darkening the sun.

  The aftermost third of the frigate was wholly shattered: the wreckage sank directly and the rest followed in a slow hideous lurch, settling on the bottom with only her foretopmast showing. Yet even before she had settled the sea was torn and lashed by falling debris—her whole maintop with several feet of the mast, many great spars, scarcely broken, countless blocks and unrecognizable great smouldering lumps of timber: most of it fell somewhat inshore, but smaller pieces were still raining down minutes later, some trailing smoke.