Because the Kathleen was still well up to windward of the British line Ramage could see this alteration of course quite clearly. But the San Nicolas was almost abreast the Victory: to Sir John it would be almost imperceptible; in fact with all the smoke it probably wouldn't be noticed at all.

He stared for several moments, and saw there was also no chance of the Victory seeing any signals from the Kathleen. But he also realized that since the San Nicolas was not yet abreast the Captain, the Commodore was bound to spot she had altered course away: her turn was gradually taking her out of range of the Captain.

Finally he snapped the telescope shut with a vicious jab. The copper of its tubes made his fingers smell. Lieutenants, he told himself, shouldn't question the actions of admirals, and as he was trying to thrust aside his doubts Southwick said: 'Puzzles me why we didn't tack in succession as soon as the Culloden was abreast the San Nicolas.'

Ramage was startled and gave a noncommittal grunt: the old Master's gruff comment echoed his own thoughts, which he'd drawn on a corner of the page with a question mark beside it. If Sir John have given that order as soon as the Culloden was in a position where tacking would take her up alongside the San Nicolas leading the Spanish van, each of the following British ships would have turned in succession in the Culloden's wake, so the second ship, the Blenheim, would have got alongside the second Spaniard, followed by the Prince George tackling the third and so on until both lines were sailing on the same course alongside each other, ship matched against ship. There was one other possiblity.

'He might be going to order us to tack together.'

It was Southwick's turn to grunt.

'With those leading ships turning away from us? We'd never get near 'em.'

And again Ramage was forced to admit perhaps his own fears weren't groundless: Southwick was making the same point.

‘Trouble is,' Southwick grumbled. 'I'm dam' sure that with all this smoke they can't see what's happening from the Victory.'

Waiting until the two lines were abreast of each other - when the San Nicolas leading the Spanish van was level with the Excellent at the rear of the British line, and the Culloden at the head of the British line level with the last Spaniard - and then ordering the Fleet to tack together was standard and meant the whole line attacked at the same time. But it depended on one thing: that both lines were on opposite and parallel courses or, if not, that the ships farthest from the enemy had a chance to get up to their opposite numbers in the enemy line.

'Look,' Southwick said, 'the San Nicolas has gone round even more, and I bet the Santisima Trinidad's going to follow in her wake. They don't want to fight: mark my words, sir, they're quitting!'

Ramage opened the telescope reluctantly, feeling like a child in bed who'd heard a strange noise in the night and was curious yet frightened, uncertain whether to look and confirm his fears or hide his head under the sheet.

There was no doubt: the San Nicolas's turn was part of some plan Cordoba had devised; it wasn't because she had sustained too much damage, or her captain was scared of British powder and shot. The ships bunched up astern had turned in her wake now, and were being followed by the rest. The Spanish line was becoming half-moon-shaped where they turned, but the trouble was they were turning after they'd passed the Victory, hidden from her by the smoke. Those ahead of her, which Sir John could see, hadn't reached the point on the bulge where they turned ...

Yet what on earth could he—

'Flagship's signalling sir,' called Jackson. 'General - number eighty. "To tack in succession".'

In succession, not together! That proved Sir John could not see Cordoba's van. And as far as Ramage could see - for the Kathleen was still to windward of the line, still bearing away slowly to get into position astern of the Excellent - the Culloden was well past the last ship in the Spanish line ... Tacking in succession meant the Culloden would turn and might with a bit of luck and good seamanship get alongside the last ship, but the Blenheim and those astern of her would tack and find no opponents...

Ramage felt there was some terrible flaw in his reasoning as he drew another sketch of them tacking in succession; some simple factor he had overlooked which would be the key to it all, which would reveal Sir John's real intentions. He then drew a diagram of them tacking together, and put a question mark beside that, too.

Southwick had no such doubts about Sir John's intentions.

'You're sure it's number eighty?' he snapped to Jackson.

The American nodded but sensing the questions had a greater significance which was lost on him looked again. 'Yes, sir, eighty it is.'

'Give me the signal book a moment,' and as he looked up the number he growled, 'Watch in case they run up "Annul".'

Turning to Ramage he said, 'It's right, sir, that's number eighty. But d'you think there's been a mistake? I was expecting "Tack together".'

Ramage said nothing: he glanced at his watch - eight minutes past twelve - and then looked at the leading Spanish ships, an idea forming in his mind.

'But sir,' Southwick expostulated, 'they'll all escape if we tack in succession!'

'Wait and see if the Victory hoists "Annul".'

'But the Culloden's already coming round,' wailed Southwick. 'All we're doing is grabbing the tip of the rat's tail when we've got his whole body dam' nearly alongside!'

'That'll be enough, Mr. Southwick,' Ramage said shortly. There was a chance Sir John had some trick up his sleeve, but he was beginning to doubt it: with a given wind a ship could sail only at a certain speed and in certain directions: likewise there were only four aces in a pack of cards.

CHAPTER TWENTY

By now the Kathleen was in position astern of the Excellent and at the end of the British line, the puppy following the huntsmen. From ahead the continuous rumble of broadsides, and the Kathleens watched the Blenheim brace her yards round and tack in the wake of the Culloden. Ten minutes past noon and the Culloden was doing her best to catch up with the rearmost Spanish ship.

Almost weeping with frustration, Ramage glared at the mass of ships forming the van of Cordoba's division: an almost solid wedge, the San Nicolas still leading, with at least seven more ships in a tightly-packed group tucked in astern, two and three abreast, the rest scattered astern along the bulging line.

'One thing about it,' Southwick commented, 'they sail like haystacks drifting to windward...'

'Flagship sir,' said Jackson, 'number forty. "To pass through the enemy's line".'

Fifteen minutes past noon. So Sir John intended the Culloden to try to cut through Cordoba's line, splitting it in two.

'He'll never do it,' Southwick said quietly. 'We'll never catch up with 'em in this wind. And only the Culloden and Blenheim have tacked - thirteen more to go!'

With maddening slowness, the Prince George, Orion and Irresistible came round one after the other in the light breeze, and then as the Colossus began turning her foretopgallant mast bent in the middle and began to fall - so slowly, so gracefully, that it took a moment for Ramage to realize it had been shot away, bringing with it the foretopmast. Then the foreyard and foretopsail yard slewed to one side and fell to the deck, a confused jumble of wood, cordage and sails, leaving her unable to tack. Her captain obviously decided to wear round to get out of the way of those astern because almost at once Ramage could see through the telescope that her mizzen topsail was beginning to shiver.