The stay tackle was hooked on and the launch was hoisted off the booms amidships, swung over the side and lowered. While it was being hauled aft, where it would tow astern, one of the cutters was being hooked on. Fifteen minutes later the Juno's four boats were astern, out of the way. Leaving them stowed on board in their normal position would have meant a grave risk of enemy shot shattering them and hurling lethal showers of splinters over the men at the guns. Splinters caused more casualties than actual shot. Towed astern the boats were out of the way and far less likely to be damaged.

While some men were hauling at the stay tackle, others were hurrying round the deck placing the grommets, thick rope rings, in which shot would rest like grotesque black eggs in a nest. Arms chests were hoisted up from below and muskets taken out and loaded, the first of them being put in the racks on the inside of the bulwarks between the guns. Loaded pistols, cutlasses and tomahawks were hung on hooks beside them, while the long boarding pikes, their ash handles well varnished, were stowed vertically in their racks round the masts, looking from a distance like bundles of steel-tipped fascines.

Now the crews of each gun were going through the loading procedure, working on their own because there were no officers to give them orders. The locks had been brought up from the magazine and secured to the breech of the guns, the flints had been checked and the trigger lines coiled up and placed on the breeches. The tompions protecting the muzzles of the guns had been taken out, the tackles overhauled so the ropes would run freely. Sponge and match tubs were being rolled into position and filled from a head pump rigged amidships which had already wetted the decks.

Down below, heavy blankets soaked with water had been hung up, surrounding the approaches to the magazine, so that no flash from an explosion could get through and detonate the powder stored there. Already the gunner was in the magazine itself, wearing felt slippers (shoes might set off loose powder), passing the cartridges through the blanket fire screens to waiting boys who slid them into the cylindrical wooden cartridge boxes, slipped the lids on and brought them up on deck, where they waited along the centre line behind their particular guns until called by the gun captains.

Black leather fire buckets with 'Juno' painted on them were also being topped up with water at the head pump and put back on their hooks under the quarterdeck rail, where they would swing with the roll of the ship and not spill. The fire engine would be hauled out and its cistern filled with water. In the ward-room Bowen was preparing his instruments and his assistant was winding bandages. The ward-room table had been scrubbed and lines put ready to hold writhing men. Beside it was an empty tub, the receptacle for 'wings and limbs' in case amputations were necessary.

Normally when the Juno went into action her Captain and Master were on the quarterdeck, with the four lieutenants at the guns, each commanding a division. Now Ramage was relying entirely on the gun captains, who were trained seamen but nevertheless accustomed to having an officer behind them bellowing orders through the thick smoke and noise of battle. He had assembled all the gun captains and second captains earlier and told them to use their common sense. The moment they heard Ramage tell them to open fire, they were to continue as long as their guns would bear, but they must fire steadily, with every shot well aimed.

La Créole was still in sight running west for two or three miles from Diamond Hill and then beating back, always in sight of the Juno and of the French, her Tricolour flying. Behaving, in fact, just as the French officers in the convoy would expect a privateer to behave. She was fast enough to ignore the current; her great fore and aft sails drove her through the water as though she were a skimming dish.

Less than half an hour after giving the series of orders to Southwick Ramage walked round the ship, listening always for a hail from the masthead or quarterdeck warning of another signal from La Créole, talking with the men and inspecting the positions. There had been enough grommets for twenty extra rounds to be stored beside each gun, in addition to those always kept in the shot garlands along the bulwarks and round the coamings.

He peered into the cistern of the fire engine, examined the stands of muskets, sent for the carpenter and listened to his report that shot plugs, boards and tools were ready, heard from a bosun's mate that the tiller tackles were in position, ready to be rigged if the wheel was shot away, and preventer stays prepared in case masts were damaged.

Satisfied that the ship was ready for action, he had an encouraging word with each of the gun captains and went down to his cabin to collect his pistols and sword. Back on the quarterdeck a look through the telescope showed that the Surcouf’s, guns were run out, her boats in the water astern, and Aitken walking up and down the quarterdeck with enviable nonchalance. Obviously he was satisfied that his ship was ready and, like Ramage, impatient for the final signal from La Créole.

The Surcouf had fine lines; the French certainly designed handsome ships. The sheer had a graceful sweep and the bow a pleasing flare. Any captain would be pleased with her appearance, and Ramage knew that few admirals would find fault with her. Yet in three hours she might be reduced to a shattered hulk, lying dead in the water with her masts hanging over the side in a tangle of rigging, her hull and decks torn up by roundshot.

He shivered despite the heat. The Juno could be close to her in the same condition with not a dozen men alive in both ships to raise a cheer or cry for quarter. In considering the number of ships, the odds were only two to one in favour of the French, but in numbers of men (and that was what counted in the end) the odds were about nine to one because there would be about 1200 Frenchmen in their four frigates.

Nine to one. It was the first time he had reduced his gamble to actual figures, and it frightened him. Two frigates against four seemed acceptable, but one of his men against nine Frenchmen was monstrous. What right had he to take his handful of men into battle against such odds? They all trusted him, from Southwick and Aitken to the cook's mate and the youngest powder monkey: the sight of the two frigates with their guns run out was proof of that. They trusted him to work out the odds and only ask of them what was reasonable. He had abused their trust, He held out his hands and clenched all but one of his fingers. Nine to one. If you committed suicide, the Church would not allow your body to be buried in consecrated ground. It was just as well that the sea obligingly accepted whatever it was offered. Then he remembered that not five minutes earlier he had pictured the Juno and Surcouf drifting, shattered shells, manned by corpses, and he cursed his imagination: it killed men and sank ships before their time.