Ramage nodded, but he knew the sight of Sir John's flagship would put more warmth in his belly than anything even the most expert and patient of cooks could produce.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The gale lasted three more days. Below deck there was hardly a dry place in the ship: months in the hot sun had dried out and shrunk planking and this, followed by the working of the hull in the heavy seas, provided plenty of places for the water constantly sluicing over the deck to seep below in dozens of regular drips. Hammocks and clothing became damp, then sodden; mildew grew fast, like an odorous green cancer, fed by the humidity. And hour after hour the Kathleen pitched into a head sea, slowly - agonizingly slowly as far as Ramage was concerned - fore-reaching to the north-east.

Finally on Friday morning the wind began to veer to the south-east and ease slightly. It could be the gale blowing itself out, but, as Southwick pointed out to Ramage, it could also be the warning that another gale - from the Atlantic this time - was approaching. Both men feared that one of the area's notorious south-easters would trap the Kathleen in the great gulf between Cape St. Vincent and the reefs of Cape Trafalgar. Hundreds of ships over the years had found themselves driven relentlessly into the gulf, unable to beat out against the wind to clear Cape St. Vincent on one tack or Cape Trafalgar on the other, and usually ending up wrecked on the low sandbanks between Huelva, at the mouth of the Rio Odiel (from which Colombus sailed in 1492 on his first voyage to Hispaniola) and San Lucar de Barrameda, at the mouth of the Rio Guadalquivir, from where Magellan sailed to circumnavigate the world in 1519. Those forty odd miles between the starting points for two of history's greatest voyages, Ramage realized, had seen the end of scores of others ...

An hour before noon the cloud began splitting up to reveal patches of blue sky, and with fifteen minutes in hand Southwick appeared on deck with his ancient quadrant.

Five minutes before noon a break in the sky allowed him to begin taking sights. Shortly after the bosun's mate rang eight bells, Ramage looked at him questioningly and Southwick said, 'Pretty sure of it, sir,' and went down to his cabin to work it out. A few minutes later, leaving the bosun's mate at the conn, Ramage joined him and as they crouched in the tiny, hot cabin, the Master pointed to the latitude he had calculated and at two crosses he'd marked on the damp and mildew-blotched chart.

'We're about here, sir - maybe a bit more to the west,' he said, a stubby forefinger confidently stabbing the southernmost cross, 'and there's the rendezvous.'

'Closer than I'd hoped.'

'Yes, sir, though there's this current setting south-eastwards, of course.'

'Very well Mr. Southwick, we'll alter course for the rendezvous.'

Two hours after dawn on Sunday the Kathleen was hove-to near the Victory, a minnow in the lee of a whale, and Ramage was on board, explaining to Captain Robert Calder, who was Captain of the Fleet, that he had urgent news for the admiral.

Calder demanded to know what it was before taking him to Sir John, but Ramage, with a mixture of stubbornness and pomposity, refused to divulge it, since Calder had no right to ask. Further argument was stopped by a young midshipman arriving to tell Calder the admiral wished to see Mr. Ramage in his cabin at once. Ramage hurried aft, hoping to leave Calder striding the flagship's well-scrubbed deck. Although this was the first time they'd met, he took an instant dislike to him.

The admiral's cabin was large and the canvas covering the deck, painted in large black-and-white squares, gave the impression it was a huge chess-board. Waiting with his back to the huge stern lights so his face was in shadow, Sir John stood in a familiar attitude, stooping slightly, his small head to one side and frowning, hands clasped behind his back, his eyes unwavering as he looked up.

'Well, Mr. Ramage, the last I heard from Gibraltar was that you'd surrendered your ship and were a prisoner in a Spanish jail.'

His face was impassive despite the bantering note in his voice, and before Ramage could answer he continued, 'You've met Captain Hallowell? He is on board as my guest. Ben, this is the young man I was telling you about, Ramage, the Earl of Blazey's son. He has a certain facility for interpreting orders to suit his own purpose - I had almost said "whim". So far he's also suited the purpose of his superior officers. I trust,' he added, turning to Ramage, 'that happy state of affairs will continue; though I've never met a gambler who died a rich man in his old age.'

Ramage recognized the significance of a warning from the man famous as the Navy's strictest (and fairest) disciplinarian; and although he tried to fix a smile on his face he knew he looked like an errant small boy facing his tutor.

'I hear you lost the fair Marchesa to the Apollo,' Sir John added, as if knowing his warning had struck home. 'Still, Captain Usher was an excellent host. And however cramped the Apollo, it was preferable to a Spanish prison cell...'

The old devil doesn't miss much, Ramage thought, and Calder walked into the cabin as he braced himself for the next shaft, but the admiral said conversationally as if to indicate there were no more rebukes to come (for the time being anyway), 'Well, what brings you here? Have you any news or dispatches for me?'

Ramage could not resist imitating the dry, even, unemotional way the admiral habitually spoke.

'News, sir. Admiral Cordoba had orders to sail from Cartagena with the Spanish Fleet by 1st February to make for Cadiz. He has twenty-seven sail of the line, thirty-four frigates and seventy transports.'

Hallowell jumped up from his chair with an exclamation of delight, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the beams, but Sir John remained impassive.

'You seem very positive, Ramage. How do you know?'

'I read Admiral Cordoba's orders from the Minister of Marine, sir.'

Because Ramage forgot Sir John knew nothing of his escape from Cartagena, he was startled by the effect of his bald answer.

Calder said immediately, without attempting to hide the sneer in his voice. 'Was it the Minister or the Admiral that showed them to you?'

Ramage ignored him, taking from his pocket the copy of the orders he had made in the gardener's hut, and his translation.

'You have a copy?' Sir John asked incredulously.

'Yes sir - this is the one I made from the original order to Admiral Cordoba, but I've also written a translation. I didn't have time to copy out all the polite phrases at the beginning and the end,' he added, handing the translation to Sir John, who opened it unhurriedly and read it through a couple of times before passing it to Calder.

'I've no idea what you were doing in Cartagena. When did you leave?'

'On the night of 30th January, sir.'

'Do you think the Fleet was able to sail by the first?'

'Yes, sir - it was as ready as any Spanish Fleet would ever be.'

'What did you do on leaving Cartagena?'

'I made for Gibraltar and arrived on the third. The Kathleen had been recaptured and was the only ship there and the Commissioner - he was the senior officer present, apart from the Governor - put me back in command of her with orders to look for you. We had a Levanter coming through the Strait and had to run before it, and then heave-to, so I was delayed making up for the rendezvous.'

Sir John nodded. 'Yes, we had trouble with that gale too. If it caught the Spaniards in the Strait, do you think they could have made up for Cadiz?'

'No, sir, definitely not.'

'You seem very certain, Ramage.'

'Yes, sir: it was one of the worst I've been in. Even allowing the Kathleen's only a cutter, I don't think anyone could have made up for Cadiz in that weather.'