Patrick O'Brian - The Hundred Days

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 lane, 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 sitte 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 bç 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.’