'Yes, sir. But I've also a good ship and a good crew, and now I know what they're like on a long passage I'd like to try 'em on different fare.'

'Different fare it'll be, I promise you that,' the Admiral said and his tone was suddenly serious. 'But hurry along now or you'll be late for dinner. If you've mail on board, tell my secretary and he'll send a boat over to collect it. You've no need to water and provision: you won't be going far. And try to remember everything about London fashions—the women'll be all agog !'

*

As soon as the three wives had withdrawn, the Admiral looked up at Ramage and said: 'Your written orders will be prepared in the morning, but I want to run over the gist of them now so you can ask questions. Both Captain Chubb and Captain Dace had precisely the same orders very recently, so you can have the benefit of their experience.'

Both Captains looked embarrassed, but since the tone of the Admiral's voice had not changed, Ramage thought for a moment it was a natural modesty, then realized they must have failed to carry out the orders.

'Grenada had a violent insurrection a couple of years or so ago—do you know much about it?'

Ramage shook his head: he remembered some references in a newspaper but that was all.

'Well, you'll find out all about it when you get there, but briefly a man called Fedon led a revolt that all but threw us out of the island. Backed by the French, of course, and dozens of innocent people--planters and the like—were murdered. We landed more troops and the revolt was put down. Now the island is quiet again and trying to recover. Any questions so far?'

'Is there a chance of another revolt, sir?'

'No. But that's not to say there aren't people in the island who'd like to see the French take over; just that they don't amount to anything.

'Very well, Ramage, now for your part. Grenada is a rich island—mostly from sugar, molasses, rum, cotton, cocoa, and some coffee—but not very big. They don't import much, which means of course that merchantmen from England don't call there very often. Instead, the island schooners carry the produce up to Martinique, where it's transhipped.'

Ramage nodded, but so far he couldn't see where the Triton came into it.

'About four schooners a week sail from Grenada for islands to the north and at least two are bound for Martinique with cargoes for transhipment to England. The rest are carrying out local trade and don't go farther than St Vincent, Can you guess your orders yet?'

Managing to hide his surprise at the sudden question, Ramage thought quickly. Had there been a slight emphasis on the word sail in the phrase 'sail from Grenada'? And the Admiral was obviously concerned with those bound for Martinique. It was worth a try.

'The schooners for Martinique sail, but they don't always arrive, sir?'

The Admiral glanced at Chubb and Dace, then looked straight at Ramage. 'Was that a guess, reasoning, or do you already know something about this?'

'Half-way between a guess and reasonings sir.'

'Well, that's what happens. They sail from Grenada and some never arrive at Martinique, which is only about 160 miles away. And all the islands they pass are held by us. The Grenadines—lumps of rock: not even a rowing boat could hide among them. Then Bequia—the Army has a small garrison there. St Vincent and St Lucia both with plenty of troops. The longest stretch of open water is from St Lucia to Martinique, and that's only twenty miles or so. But for all that, some of the schooners just vanish.'

'Could it be treachery by the skippers, sir?'

'No, we thought of that. The skippers are local men; they've everything to lose. They and the schooners really do vanish; we've never found a trace of man or vessel that's failed to reach Martinique. Nor do the schooners ever turn up later flying the Tricolour. Very well, that's about all we know. Your job is to go to Grenada, find out what happens and put an end to it.'

'May I ask what measures have been used up to now, sir?'

'Tell him,' the Admiral instructed the two captains.

Both glanced at each other. Dace cleared his throat and, without looking at Ramage, said in a monotone:

'There aren't enough escorts—none in fact—so convoys can't be sailed, and anyway even if they could the freight rate's so high now the schooners prefer to make a dash for it. They reckon they can make three round voyages—if they don't get caught—in the time it'd take a convoy to get there and back;

particularly since it takes twice as long to unload ten ships arriving all at once in a convey than it does ten ships arriving singly at regular intervals------'

'He knows that!' the Admiral interrupted impatiently.

'—well, Captain Chubb and myself started patrols between Martinique and Grenada. He took the windward side of the islands and I the leeward side. We did that for two months. We saw nothing.'

'The schooners were still captured?'

'Yes,' Dace said uncomfortably, glancing at the Admiral.

'Did any of them take the windward side or all of them keep to the leeward, sir?'

Dace again looked embarrassed and from the way the Admiral glanced up Ramage guessed the idea hadn't occurred to any of them. What he intended as an innocent question now left an admiral and two captains looking foolish.

'Would it have made any difference do you think?' the Admiral demanded.

Dace shook his head. 'And I doubt if they'd try: they'd have a long beat to the eastward to dear St Vincent and St Lucia. They're an independent crowd, the schooner-owners.'

Ramage asked: 'Is there any point on the route which it's known the schooners always pass safely?'

Chubb nodded. 'They pass Bequia. Beyond that we're not sure. Perhaps St Vincent, but it's usually dark by then.'

'But the local traders to St Vincent—are they ever captured?'

'No.'

'What was the result of sailing them from St George at different times?'

Dace answered. "None, because they have to spend a night at sea whatever time they leave St George's------'

'Damn it man!' the Admiral exclaimed. 'How many times do I have to say it. The capital of Grenada is St George. It's clear enough on the chart. Why do you people insist on calling it St George's. St George's what? It's named after the saint, it doesn't belong to him!'

'I beg your pardon, sir. Well, we've tried sailing them at dawn, noon, dusk and the middle of the night. Didn't make any difference.'

Ramage decided he'd find out more when he reached St George: neither captain could tell him much and he was merely stirring up a lot of resentment by asking questions the answers of which could only emphasize that a lieutenant with a brig was now being given orders for an operation which two post captains commanding frigates had failed to carry out 'Well, there you are Ramage,' the Admiral said, and Ramage had an uneasy feeling he had read his thoughts. 'We'll join the ladies: they'll want to hear news of the latest fashions in London—and the gossip.'