Patrick O'Brian - The Hundred Days

‘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 slightbuilt 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 eighteenpounders; 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.

‘Avast firing,’ cried Jack in the unnatural deafened silence that followed. ‘House the guns. Mr Harding, lower what boats we have left’ - the launch on the booms was pierced through and through - ‘and bid Pomone come within hail.’

He ran below, where Stephen was just straightening after having placed a splint on a torn and broken arm that Poll was quickly, expertly bandaging. ‘The Doctor will soon put you right, Edwardes,’ he said to the patient, and drawing Stephen aside he asked him privately how urgent he thought their mission to Spalato. ‘Of the very first urgency,’ said Stephen. Jack nodded. ‘Very well,’ said he. ‘What is our damage?’

‘Harris shot dead with a musket-ball. Six splinterwounds, one dangerous; and two men hurt by falling blocks.’

A very, very modest butcher’s bill. Jack said a word to each of the men waiting to be treated and returned to the deck. Pomone had already come abreast. ‘Captain Vaux,’ he called, ‘have you suffered much?’

‘Very little, sir, for such a brisk turn-to, short though it was. Four powder-burns; one gun overset, four pair of shrouds cut and damage to the running rigging. Some men hurt by falling blocks and timber. But our boats are all sound.’

‘Then pray lower them down. Pick up what survivors you can and recover our Marines. Land the prisoners at Ragusa- the new Ragusa up the coast - and then follow me to Spalato without the loss of a minute.’

During the later part of their voyage to Spalato, rendered tedious by capricious winds varying from a furious bora, shrieking down from the north and blowing the foretopmast staysail from its boltrope to very gentle breezes right aft that often died away to a flat calm, and by the hazardous nature of the Dalmatian coast with its many islands, not to say vile reefs, Stephen spent much of his time aloft, at the topmast cross-trees. With practice he had grown used to the climb to the maintop, though nobody liked to see him make the attempt, however smooth the calm; and he asserted that he could certainly rise even higher, to the cross-trees, with perfect safety. This however was never countenanced, and Jack required John Daniel to accompany the Doctor if ever he showed an inclination to view anything from a greater height than the carriage of a bow-chaser.

Daniel had sailed these waters in a ship belonging to Hoste’s squadron and once he had overcome his shyness he not only told Stephen the names of the various headlands, promontories and islands but also described some of the actions in which he had taken part, often giving an exact account of the number of round-shot fired and the weight of the powder expended.