'But I still don't------'

'No, because you aren't a businessman. Now, to be blunt, you're our only chance of destroying these privateers. Very well, I want you to succeed. Apart from my personal regard for you, my profits will quadruple if the privateers are destroyed—and be quartered if they're not.

'So I'd rather you waited for a better chance of succeeding. If you're killed we can resign ourselves to another six months or a year of losses. That means ruin: we'll have no schooners left. Not a hundredweight of produce can be shipped to England. Grenada will collapse.'

'But there are frigates,' Ramage protested. 'Admiral Robinson------'

'Can do nothing: it's men that matter, not ships,' Rondin said. 'No ship of war is better than her captain.'

Having spent most of his life in the Navy, his contact with men of business had been small, so Ramage was fascinated by Rondin's honesty in weighing personal against business feelings.

Wilson asked bluntly: 'For all that, you'll let us use one of your schooners?' ( 'Of course! But I hope I've persuaded him to wait for a more propitious opportunity.'

Ramage shook his head.

'The big difference between a businessman and a fighting man, Mr Rondin, is that the businessman can rarely surprise his competitors. He gets a higher price for his goods only if he gets to the market first selling something everyone wants.'

'True enough,' Rondin admitted, 'and in wartime the convoy system means all our produce arrives on the English market at the same time, so that overnight scarcity becomes a glut, and prices drop accordingly.'

'Exactly, but a fighting man can often surprise his enemies. I'm hoping surprise will give us a considerable advantage— bringing the percentage down to something more acceptable to an investor!'

Rondin smiled. 'The schooner's yours, my Lord. Now, tell me again exactly what you want me to do.'

*

Jackson and Maxton reported promptly to Ramage on the quarterdeck.

'Well, Maxton, how's your pupil coming along?'

'Fine, sah,' the West Indian said enthusiastically. 'We've made the drum and it's just right. Jacko's been practising. You won't be able to tell the difference.'

Knowing a West Indian's two faults were the habit of saying what he thought the other person wanted to hear, and an incurably optimistic approach to all problems, Ramage said sharply:

'It's not whether I can tell the difference, Maxton, but whether that fellow listening up to the north can.'

Maxton shook his head, as if guessing what Ramage was thinking. 'Even I wouldn't be able to tell the difference, sah.'

'Very well, you've obviously been a good teacher. I appreciate it.'

Maxton looked embarrassed, knowing there was more behind his Captain's words than most people realized.

'Jackson,' Ramage said, 'I want to see you in my cabin in five minutes. Mr Southwick! If you can spare me a minute.'

Down in the stuffy cabin the Master listened with his usual cheerfulness as Ramage described the latest developments, nodding at the prospect of action at last 'M'sword's been getting rusty!' he exclaimed.

'I hope it'll stay rusty,' Ramage said. 'I'll be leading the boarding party and you'll be commanding the Triton.' 'Oh, sir!' Southwick sounded like a disappointed schoolboy. 'The boarding party's really my job. After all,' he added slyly, 'you command the Triton, sir: she's your responsibility...'

'Not if I leave you in command,' Ramage countered.

'Seems to me you're taking advantage of your position, sir,' the Master said in mock protest.

'That's the sole advantage of seniority, Southwick. It starts with the Prime Minister, who bullies the First Lord, who bullies the Commander-in-Chief...'

'Down to lieutenants commanding brigs who bully masters of brigs,' Southwick added.

'Who bully quartermasters of brigs... I can't see what you're complaining about, Southwick!'

'All right, sir,' Southwick said, 'I submit only because I know Admiral Robinson's doing the same thing to you!'

'As good a reason as any.'

There was a knock on the door and the sentry called that Jackson wished to be admitted.

The American came in and stood at attention, shoulders hunched, head bent forward to keep clear of the beams overhead.

'Ah Jackson—how did your conversation with Maxton turn out?'

'Well enough, sir. You see, he was frightened when he began giving me lessons; kept muttering and grunting words I didn't understand, and crossing himself the way Catholics do. But he didn't today, and when I------'

He glanced at the Master and Ramage nodded.

'—when I said I'd heard the best drummer in Grenada was a man called Josiah Fetch, Maxton just swore. Never heard him carry on like that before, sir. Three or four minutes he was, just cussing and blaspheming------'

'Did he cross himself?' Ramage interrupted.

'Never once, sir. When he calmed down I asked what'd put him about so, and he said this man Fetch was the wickedest man in the Caribbean; that he wished him dead.'

Ramage nodded. 'Did you get the impression he'd help...'

'Yes, sir. To be honest—I hope I didn't over-step the mark, sir, but I thought you might have the same idea—I sort of hinted that it shouldn't be too difficult to do him in."

'What did he say to that?'

'Went quiet for a minute or two and his eyes went glassy —you know how I mean, sir. Then he asked if I'd help, and if I reckoned Rossi an' Stafford would join us, I said I knew they would.'

'Does Maxton know where he lives?'

'Yes, apparently he's a sort of witch doctor and terrorizes all the local people, Maxton's father included, and makes 'em pay him so much a week from their crops. Maxton says he was mixed up in the big rebellion a year or so ago.'

'Thank you, Jackson; that's all we need to know. You'd better sound out Rossi and Stafford about this Fetch fellow. Don't go into a lot of detail, though.'

As soon as Jackson left the cabin, Southwick said: 'How many men are you taking, sir?'

'Say twenty. Water and food for forty-eight hours. Swords, pikes, tomahawks and pistols. No muskets—too crowded for them.'

'Twenty? Can't you squeeze in more?'

'I doubt it, but have another twenty standing by when you rendezvous with us. Oh yes, some grenades might be useful—you'd better see to it that half a dozen men know how to use 'em and make sure they've flints and slow matches. And I want false-fires and rockets, at least a dozen of each.'

Southwick had already taken pen and paper and was noting down Ramage's requirements.

'Call for volunteers, sir?'

'No—they'll all volunteer. Just pick twenty steady men for the main party, and another twenty to stand by. Don't leave yourself short of topmen. I'd like Jackson, Maxton, Rossi, Stafford, Evans, Fuller, John Smith the Second... You keep Appleby; you'll probably need him.'

'Although you don't want muskets, sir, there's those half dozen musketoons. They fairly cut a swathe through a crowd o' men.'

Ramage nodded. 'I'd forgotten—yes, we'll take them. One each for Jackson, Stafford, Evans, Fuller and Smith the Second, and you choose the other one.'

'Very well, sir. I'd better make a start on this, and the station bill will have to be changed.'

With that Southwick bustled out, and Ramage took up the pen, jabbed it in the ink, and scribbled a few lines in his daily journal. With so much happening, one day was merging into the next, and he'd need the notes when he came to write his report.

Just before leaving the Fort, the Colonel had given him some advice. Wilson began by pointing out what was already obvious, that Admiral Robinson had given Ramage his orders for a particular reason, because whoever received them was likely to fail, and would be a convenient scapegoat.

It was what followed that surprised Ramage.