Ramage's Signal r-11 Read online

  As soon as he opened the sum book he saw it comprised a dozen pages, perhaps more, and was the key to the semaphore code. The ledger was in fact the daily signal log, each entry signed. The first signal was dated more than a year earlier; the latest had been received 'from the west' and sent on eastward an hour before sunset the previous evening. Each entry was written clearly and gave the name of 'the chief signalman'. There were only two names, so presumably his guess about two watches during daylight was correct, and the senior of each was the 'chief'. The writing was so good that obviously this log was the final copy of a rough log, or they scribbled a signal down on a piece of paper and transferred it to the log after it had been passed on.

  He decided to read through the last few days' signals later; for the moment he was more interested in how the semaphore worked. It was an invention of the Ministry of Marine and Colonies, as the first page proudly announced, although the guards at the camp had all been soldiers. Ramage had not seen the lieutenant's uniform because the poor fellow was still dressed in his nightshirt.

  The next page gave instructions for the siting and building of semaphore stations: they should be mounted as high as possible ('always bearing in mind that some desirable peaks or headlands might be too frequently hidden in cloud to be used') and always within clear sight of the other station on each side. This, the Ministry warned, should be checked by direct observation; no reliance should be placed on maps or charts.

  Stations were to be manned from first light until dusk and this was to be interpreted as meaning from the time the next tower could first be seen in the morning until it was indistinguishable in the evening. The chief signalman would be responsible for the telescope and keep it locked up at night.

  A rough log must be kept 'on the platform' and signed by the signalman who took down the message, and this would, as soon as practicable, be copied into the station signal log and signed by the chief signalman of the watch, and once a day by the commanding officer of the station, who was in any case to be told at once if any important signals were received, even if only for passing to the next station.

  At all times ... and so it went on: Ramage reflected that the minds and limited vocabularies of the ministry clerks who drafted such books ran in the same narrow and rutted tracks whatever their nationality.

  And then, on page eight, was the key to the code. At first glance the diagrams seemed to be very simple. The big wooden frame had five opening windows or shutters. Four were at the corners of a square with the fifth above in the centre. Each letter of the alphabet was formed by opening shutters to form patterns so that there were twenty letters. J was missing, and single signals represented P and Q, U V W and X Y and Z, so one had to guess which was the correct letter. Numbers were simple - the X Y Z signal, all five shutters open, was repeated twice, and then the numbers 1 to 9 were represented by the same signals as the first nine letters of the alphabet, with the letter O also acting as zero. To change back to letters from numbers, the signalmen again sent X Y Z twice.

  Ramage saw that it was a laborious, slow but secure way of passing messages. Every letter of every word had to be spelled out, but there would be no mistakes. Nor could there be many situations where there was any urgency, and the garrison of a semaphore station had nothing else to do ...

  Now for the signal log. Yesterday's signals: the last one, addressed simply to Station Eighteen, said: 'Powder will be sent.' Before that, Station Twenty was told: 'Tell ship grain not available here.' Where was 'here'? Presumably Toulon.

  Ramage read back through four pages until he found Station Thirty-four reporting briefly: 'First ship of convoy only just arrived.' That answered the previous signal, presumably from Toulon, which asked the station when the convoy was due to sail.

  In the lower right-hand drawer of his desk Ramage found the signal book he had taken from the captured frigate and looked at the list of names which included Foix and Aspet. He saw that the number thirty-four was printed against Barcelona, while Toulon had number one. Here, Foix, was twelve and Aspet across the bay was thirteen. The last station, at the opposite end to Toulon, was Cartagena, the great Spanish naval base. The advantage of having such swift communication was obvious and the system was ingenious.

  He put the signal log book aside. The wind had dropped completely and there was not the slightest cooling draught through the cabin. He glanced up to make sure the skylight was open. Now for the pile of correspondence. Only four or five had the Ministry of Marine's seal, and they were routine: the lieutenant commanding the station had been overpaid for several months and the Ministry were involved in an attempt, so far unsuccessful, to get the money back. The letters showed that the lieutenant was a naval officer, anyway, not a soldier. The remaining letters were from a colonel in Toulon who appeared to head the department responsible for provisioning the semaphore stations.

  Ramage collected up the letters and put them in the pouch; he would read them individually when he had some spare time, but it was obvious that if a similar semaphore station could be set up at, say, Newhaven and be responsible to the Admiralty and garrisoned by the Horseguards, its capture by an enemy would produce a similar haul of dreary and routine correspondence.

  The Marine brought in the lieutenant, a mournful-looking man who, unused to appearing in public in a grubby nightshirt, did not know what to do with his bony hands, which stuck out of the sleeves like the crossbar of a scarecrow. His eyes were still bleary; his thin, long face looked furtive because he had not shaved for two or three days and the shadows thrown by the lantern gave him the appearance of a seedy village grocer caught stealing a gigot de mouton while the butcher was at mass.

  When the sentry, holding the man's arm, jolted him to a stop in front of Ramage's desk, the lieutenant finally stood to attention, head bent sideways because of the low headroom, his eyes lowered, his mouth so tightly shut that his lips looked like a small wrinkle.

  Ramage waved away the sentry and said sharply to the Frenchman: 'Jean-Paul Louis?'

  The man almost flinched and finally looked at Ramage.

  'Yes, sir: how did you know my name?'

  Then he saw the signal log and added: 'Ah, you've been reading the log.'

  'I knew your name long before I set foot in Foix', Ramage said. 'Now, sit down in that armchair; your neck will ache if you stand much longer.'

  The man was tall and with the headroom under the beams only five feet four inches, he could stand only with his head cocked. Cautiously, as though fearing the arms of the chair would clutch him in a deadly grip, the man sat down, showing boots beneath his nightshirt: French Army boots and presumably all he had been able to grab before capture. Or, more likely, Rennick let him get them.

  'How long have you commanded at Foix?'

  'More than a year, sir, ever since the station was opened.'

  'And they keep you busy?'

  The man shrugged his shoulders and pointed to the log. 'Foix is a link in a chain ...'

  'How long does it take to get a message from Toulon to Barcelona?'

  Again Louis shrugged his shoulders.

  'From Foix to Toulon, then?'

  'I don't know, captain. The messages are occasionally dated but never timed.'

  'You must have some idea, surely?'

  But obviously, from the worried look on the man's face as he contemplated the consequences of not knowing the answer to Ramage's question, he neither knew nor, until this moment, cared.

  'Provisions', Ramage said. 'How are they delivered to your garrison, and from where?'

  'Oh, dry provisions come from Sète once a month. Vegetables we grow ourselves - you did not have time to see our garden, but we have a good well and plenty of water, and the men enjoy gardening. We have some cows, so we have fresh milk, butter and cheese. Anything else we need we get from the village.'

  'You steal it.'

  'Oh no, sir; we requisition it in the normal way.'

  'You do not pay cash, I mean.'

  'We give them
tickets which they can cash at the pay offices in Sète.'

  Ramage then reached the more important question: 'Do people from the village visit the garrison frequently?'

  'Oh no!' The idea seemed to shock Louis. 'No, we have the guardhouse. The whole camp is forbidden to civilians; in fact, only a month ago -'

  The man broke off as if realizing he had said too much.

  'Only a month ago what?' Ramage asked sharply.

  'I cannot say.'

  'You had better. You can be forced. And I am sure any of your men would be only too pleased to tell us.'

  'Well, it was a sad business, but a villager was caught in the camp at night, and according to the regulations - you must realize I had no choice; the regulations are there for me to obey - well, I ..."

  'Had him shot', Ramage finished the sentence for him.

  The Frenchman looked at Ramage in surprise. 'How did you know - have you read the regulations?'

  'No', Ramage said quietly, 'but I have fought your country for several years.'

  The Frenchman nodded sympathetically. 'I have been lucky. My uncle is mayor of a large town in Normandy, and he was able to arrange for me to have this station. I have no knowledge of the sea, you understand?'

  'Yes, I understand', Ramage said dryly. 'Now, about your job. Describe what you and the garrison did yesterday.'

  Ramage opened the signal log as he asked the question.

  'Well, about eight o'clock -'

  'No', said Ramage, 'I want all the details. You had sentries..."

  'Oh yes, there is the guard. One sentry watching the road, to prevent villagers coming in - and, of course, to prevent any of the garrison leaving: they like to go to the village and get drunk and molest the young women. It is dangerous, you understand; the local men try to catch a drunken soldier late at night - then they murder him and steal his musket. Every man must carry a musket if he leaves the camp.'

  'Tell me, this man you shot', Ramage said conversationally, 'why had he come to the camp?'

  'Oh, hunting rabbits. He had a ferret, nets and snares. And three dead rabbits.'

  'So he was not spying or stealing French government property?'

  'No - except that rabbits on French government land, which the camp is, are French government rabbits, of course. And anyway, there are the regulations.'

  Ramage felt a chill creeping over him at this stupid, cruel reasoning. 'It is a rule of war, is it not, that any enemy not wearing a uniform is treated as a spy and shot.'

  'Oh yes, indeed', Louis said eagerly. 'There you have it. This man was not wearing uniform, he was caught on French government land, so he had to be shot.'

  'But he was a Frenchman, so not an enemy', Ramage said.

  'Not an enemy like the English, no, but a traitor, which is far worse.'

  Ramage nodded his head judiciously, and then said quietly: 'You are on board a British ship of war, you are French, we are at war, and you are not wearing uniform ...'

  'But, captain!' Louis protested, 'I was -'

  'Whatever explanation you have to avoid being shot, I am sure the poacher had one too. You know the regulations. No doubt you have a wife and children -'

  'Yes, indeed, four children!'

  '- and no doubt the poacher had, too.'

  Louis nodded miserably, understanding only too well theparallel Ramage had drawn. 'Yes, two children.'

  'Very well', Ramage said crisply, 'I want honest and quick answers. You have guards on the track to Foix. Who, in the next week or two, do you expect to visit you from Foix - to come along that track?'

  'No one', Louis said. 'The month's provisions arrived five days ago, no inspection is due. And now the village knows we shot the poacher, no local people.'

  'Good. Now for signals. How does the system work?'

  'Well, at daylight the men go on watch, with the chief signalman taking the telescope to the platform on top, and looking at Station Eleven - that's at Le Chesne, just to the east - and Station Thirteen, Aspet, just to the west. If one or other has the signal flag up he indicates he is ready to receive.'

  'The signal flag?'

  'Yes, that is a recent idea. There is a flagpole on the platform now, and when a station has a signal it hoists a yellow flag. The next station hoists a yellow flag in answer and the first station begins sending when the second lowers its flag.'

  'How is the signal actually sent?'

  'By opening the shutters to make the patterns in the book.' He pointed to the small volume.

  The whole signal is sent without acknowledging it word by word?'

  'Yes. If there is any misunderstanding the receiver hoists the flag and the sender repeats the last word until the receiver lowers the flag.'

  'And then?'

  'Well, the receiver passes on the signal to the next station beyond.'

  'But surely hoisting a yellow flag can be confusing.'

  'Oh no!' Louis said, anxious to avoid any misunderstanding. 'Each station uses a square yellow flag to communicate with the next one to the east of it, and a triangular red flag for the one to the west.'

  Ramage nodded, giving the man a reassuring smile. 'You pass on a message immediately?'

  'Not always', Louis admitted guiltily. 'An unimportant one received while the men are having bread and cheese and a glass of wine might be left for half an hour, or until they've finished a game of cards. Not anything important, of course.'

  'So yesterday there were just these signals: that was all that the signalmen did yesterday?'

  'Yes. It was a quiet day.'

  'You do not report passing ships?' He had deliberately taken his time in leading up to that question in case the man was sharper than he seemed.

  'Oh, no, we have no orders to do that. Nor', he said, anticipating Ramage's next question and anxious to help, 'do we keep a watch to seaward, in case you wondered why the guardhouse is on the landward side of the camp.'

  'So when you saw the frigate passing to the westward about noon, you merely noted that she flew French colours and then ignored her?'

  'Did she fly French colours? I did not look. Most passing ships fly no colours, you understand; this is an isolated part of the coast.'

  'Do many ships anchor in this bay?'

  'Some - occasionally a ship of war stays for a week or two, sometimes a privateer. Of course, we have convoys in here; especially when one is forming up, with ships joining from many ports near here. You know merchant ships - they're always late.'

  'Yes', Ramage said, and called for the sentry.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Ramage managed to get two hours' sleep before washing and shaving and then going on shore at daybreak with Aitken to inspect the semaphore station. The insects were still whining and the metallic buzz of the cigales was loud. An occasional startled bird bolted into the maquis, squawking its alarm. Rennick was waiting on the beach, selfconscious and bulging in a French soldier's uniform made for a slimmer man.

  He saluted as Ramage, holding the leather pouch, jumped down from the boat. 'Welcome to the Foix semaphore station, sir. Everything is under control - except the semaphore!'

  'I'm sure it is', Ramage said. 'I've come over to inspect the tower and see how the semaphore works, and give our signalmen their instructions.'

  'You have the code, sir?' the Marine said eagerly. 'It was among those papers we found?'

  'It was, and you must have made a clean sweep!'

  Ramage and Rennick, who led the way, went up the narrow track to the semaphore tower perched on the hill, followed by Orsini, Jackson, Rossi and Stafford, all dressed in French uniforms.

  'Too dark when I was up there a few minutes ago to see how it works, sir', Rennick said. 'Looks very complicated.'

  'It'll give Orsini and Jackson something to do', Ramage said and opened the pouch. He selected a sheet of paper and gave it to Rennick. 'That's your copy of the semaphore alphabet. There's no code, as you'll see. Orsini and Jackson must make a copy: that one should be kept up on the platform.'


  Rennick glanced over the diagram of the twenty squares as he walked. 'There's a note here about flags.'

  Ramage explained how the red and yellow flags were used and by the time he had finished they had arrived at the base of the tower. Apart from big baulks of timber sunk into the ground and the bracing holding it vertical, the only thing that could be said about it was, Ramage realized, that it was not a tower. A section of wooden wall, a huge, wooden door with no doorway or walls ... As he glanced up he could see the five shutters, closed now like blank sash windows, but each raised and lowered by tackles.

  The rope tails of the tackles all led to the ground at the middle of the eastern side and were made up separately on large cleats, each of which had numbers from one to five painted on it corresponding to the shutter it controlled. One series of numbers was in red; the other in yellow. Ramage was puzzled for a moment, and then realized that a signal to Aspet would have to be reversed, as though seen in a mirror, for Le Chesne to read it properly.

  The three seamen and Orsini were examining the ropes and the shutters, and Ramage pointed out the reason for the different positions for the red numbers and the yellow. Then Orsini found a ladder fixed to the framework and leading up to the small platform which, as the sun rose, they could now see quite clearly fixed on top. Orsini scrambled up and a minute or two later called down: 'There's a small flagpole and a couple of flags bundled up, one red and the other yellow. Just as the book says.'

  'Stay up there', Ramage said. 'You have the telescope. Can you see the tower to the east yet?'

  'Yes, sir, but I wouldn't be able to distinguish the flag.'

  Ramage looked at his watch. 'What about the one to the west, Aspet?'

  'I can make out the tower clearly, sir, but the flags would be difficult. Both towers have high land behind them in the distance. It won't affect seeing the shutters, but a waving flag ...'

  'Very well. We'd better try out these shutters before the other towers start their watch. You stay up there and keep a lookout', he told Orsini. 'You' - he pointed at Stafford and Jackson - 'haul on the purchase marked in yellow with "1".'