Everyone would be waiting for the moment when, with the gun aimed, the second captain would cock the lock and jump back out of the way of the recoil, and the gun captain would fire. The vital first broadside, he reflected, fired before the men were really excited, everything done by the drill book, and the decks clear of smoke. After that, officers-of-quarters usually had a hard time keeping control and almost inevitably men were soon injured by a recoiling carriage, and sometimes a gun burst because in the excitement and smoke it was accidentally loaded with a double charge of powder...

Still no signal from the Commodore for the Kathleen to change her position, so Stafford might well have a chance of seeing that guillotine blade dropping.

He could just see the stern of the Culloden. She was more than two miles ahead, and the height of her masts and those of the San Nicolas showed they were almost abeam of each other. He glanced at his watch - eleven thirty exactly, three hours since Sir John signalled 'Prepare for Battle', thirty-three minutes since he ordered the line of battle, eighteen since 'Engage the Enemy', fifteen since the Culloden opened fire on the Spanish leeward division and six since they turned away ...

Three dozen red eyes winked open and closed along the Culloden's starboard side. A moment later smoke spewed from the muzzles of the guns and then the rumble of her first broadside at Cordoba's division rolled across the great Bay of Cadiz like distant thunder.

Southwick suddenly recited a familiar piece of verse:

     'From rocks and sands and barren lands

     Good fortune set me free,

     And from great guns and women's tongues

     Good Lord deliver me!'

'Especially great guns,' Ramage added. 'We've nothing to fear from the rest - at the moment'

He had been conscious of angry voices near by and suddenly Stafford staggered in front of him and fell flat on his back. As Ramage turned in surprise he saw Fuller rubbing his knuckles. A moment later Stafford was on his feet again and with fists clenched running at the Suffolk man.

'Belay that!' roared Ramage. 'Stafford, what's going on?'

' 'E 'it me, sir.'

'Fuller! Why did you hit him?'

'He was laughing 'cause 1 lost m' fish, sir.'

'Your what?'

'M' fish, sir - the one I had on the line. I lost it'

Ramage's own fists tightened with anger until he remembered they were children at heart and had to be treated as such.

'Look, you two fools: there's the Spanish Fleet. It'll be half an hour before they're abreast of us. I can have a grating rigged and the pair of you seized up and given a dozen of the best - with the bosun's mate combing the cat between each stroke - and still have twenty minutes to spare.'

At that moment the San Nicolas's first broadside echoed across the water and, as Ramage watched, the smoke formed into a cloud slowly drifting to leeward towards the British line, menacing in its oily opacity. Suddenly it came alive as the rippling red flashes of the Santisima Trinidad's broadside flickered through it like summer lightning, followed by the noise of a thousand distant drums beating a long roll.

'My God!' exclaimed Southwick. 'So that's what a four-decker's broadside sounds like!'

Instinctively everyone looked at her target, the Culloden, just as Captain Troubridge's ship fired her second full broadside, flame darting from the muzzles of all her starboard guns. Once again the spurts of smoke fused into a thick yellowish-white cloud, blowing back on board the Culloden and completely hiding her hull for a minute or two.

Then Ramage could see her, the draught down her hatchways forcing the smoke to pour out of her gun ports again as if she was on fire. The men would be coughing and spluttering while hastily reloading and running out the guns. But there was little sign of damage from the broadsides of the San Nicolas and the Santisima Trinidad.

'Can you see anything sir?' Southwick inquired anxiously.

'Nothing that matters - just a hole or two in the topsails.’

'Cordoba's got a yaw-sighted lot of gun captains. Just think - a broadside by the biggest ship o' war in the world, and nothing to show for it!'

Ramage's eye was suddenly caught by a long trail of objects floating in the water between the Captain and Diadem. They were small and he had to hold the telescope steady to see them clearly. Hmm ... dozens of casks, what seemed to be several small tables, scores of tiny crescents of wood - probably staves of barrels - and half a dozen curious white rectangles which looked like canvas berths. Obviously some of the leading ships in the line with a lot of gear on deck when the time came to clear for action had hove them over the side out of the way.

'What are they, sir?' inquired Southwick.

'Ammunition for the Navy Board clerks.'

The Master looked puzzled.

'Tables, casks, staves ... Think of all the forms to be filled in to account for them.'

Southwick roared with laughter. 'If they've got any sense they'll report 'em as destroyed in battle. That always beats those dam' quill drivers! And that reminds me, sir, we've got some sails that want replacing. More patches than original cloths. If I hear as much as one shot whistle overhead, we'll get a couple of new jibs out of it!'

More broadsides - now the Prince George and Orion were firing and several Spanish ships replying; but as they were to windward the smoke hid them from the Kathleen. Within three or four minutes, as more ships opened fire, the broadsides became ragged, echoing all round the horizon like continuous thunder.

Occasionally Ramage sighted some of the Spanish centre and rear ships for a few moments as they sailed out of the banks of smoke. The San Nicolas was still at the head of Cordoba's division with the Santisima Trinidad on her starboard quarter and the Salvador del Mundo to larboard (and, Ramage noted, completely unable to fire even one of her guns because the Santisima Trinidad was between her and the enemy). Then close astern of the Santisima Trinidad was the San Isidro with the San Josef on her larboard side and unable to fire...

He pointed out to Southwick how Cordoba's failure to control his ships was halving the guns he could bring to bear on the British.

'Doesn't seem to make much odds anyway, sir. The Culloden's been fired at by five of 'em so far, including the Santisima Trinidad, without much sign of damage!'

Ahead of the Kathleen the battle now presented an incongruous sight: on the larboard bow the centre and rear ships of the British line were sailing into battle through the smoke from the broadsides of those in the van, while over on the starboard bow the leading Spanish ships were sailing out of the smoke of battle in the opposite direction,

'The Commodore's signalling sir,' called Jackson. 'Our pendant, then one one five. "To take up station astern".'

For a moment Ramage was tempted to interpret the signal literally and bear away into the Captain's wake, ahead of the Diadem and Excellent, but the Commodore's meaning was clear: the Kathleen was to station herself at the rear of the line, astern of the Excellent.

'Very well, acknowledge. Mr. Southwick, we'll take up our station one cable astern of the Excellent.'

The Master obviously shared Ramage's unwillingness to leave their present vantage point and took his time giving the necessary orders.

Suddenly Ramage saw the San Nicolas was no longer approaching head on, parallel with the British line. She had altered course at least a point to larboard. And the ship astern was this very moment following in her wake. If the rest did the same the whole Spanish line would soon be slanting away on an increasingly diverging course: the British would be going down the right-hand side of a 'V’ towards the join (the rear of the Spanish line) while the Spaniards would be sailing up the left side towards the open end, the distance between the leading Spanish and the last British ship increasing every moment.