Ramage shrugged his shoulders. "Towing at two knots, you wouldn't get a rowing boat past them."

 "No, sir, " Southwick said lamely. "I was just pointing it out."

 "How high would you guess the walls of the fort?"

 "Forty or fifty feet, sir."

 "I think you'll find that guns mounted that high in either fort would clear the hills . . ."

 "Yes, sir, " Southwick admitted, flushing. "I was going on the plan drawn here. Of course, that'd be ground level. Sorry, sir."

 "No, you may be right anyway. I'm only going by the fact Summers didn't mention it when I talked to him. He had sharp eyes, that man; considering he drew his chart from memory, he didn't miss much."

 He sat down at the desk and motioned the two men to sit down. "Southwick, have a couple of copies made of this chart. It will be a good job for young Orsini. Clean, accurate copies."

 "Yes, sir. You have anything in particular in mind?"

 Again Ramage smiled. "Some brilliant idea snatched from a passing cloud? No, our only hope is something unexpected, so we may as well be prepared. We might have Aitken row in one night disguised as a fisherman - he can bring us back a nice mackerel or two and report on the town."

 "I wouldn't trust him in Santa Cruz with all those beautiful Spanish ladies, sir. Wouldn't trust myself, come to that, " the old Master said, giving a lewd wink.

 "What are your night orders, sir?" Aitken said hurriedly. "Anything special?"

 "No, we'll reverse our course at sunset and hope we'll be lucky tomorrow. Now, how are these Invincibles settling in?"

 "Very well, sir. Another week and you won't be able to distinguish them from the others."

 "And Kenton?"

 "He's young, sir - and I don't mean that he's only just past twenty. He's supposed to have had good marks when he took his examination for lieutenant, but - well, I wish the Admiral had sent us someone else."

 "Don't be too hard on him, " Southwick said mildly. "He's got plenty of spirit! You were a fourth lieutenant once! "

 "Aye, " Aitken admitted. "But this Kenton - he hasn't half the head of young Orsini. I can hardly believe that boy has been at sea only a few months."

 "Sunset, " Ramage said, "we reverse course at sunset - and hope for some luck by the time we've had our breakfast."

CHAPTER TEN

 At the first sight of dawn - the black eastern night sky softening to grey, dimming the stars low on the horizon - the diminutive Marine drummer boy began beating a ruffle as bosun's mates went through the ship, following the shrilling of their calls with bellows of: "General quarters - all hands to general quarters! "

 There was no wild rush: sleepy-eyed men stumbled up ladders and went to their guns, to the headpumps and to the magazine. Every ship of the Royal Navy at sea in wartime met the dawn ready for action, guns loaded and run out, in case daylight showed an enemy close by.

 The Calypso's six lookouts were still on deck, one on each bow and quarter and two amidships; lookouts did not go aloft until the first daylight would let them see at least two hundred yards round the ship.

 Aitken was officer of the deck and Ramage joined him as Rennick mustered his Marines aft. The wind was little more than a stiff breeze and as the Calypso reached to the south-west her bow occasionally sliced the top off a wave and sent a shower of spray across the fo'c'sle.

 The dim candle in the binnacle, lighting the compass card, was growing yellower as dawn spread higher in the sky; soon Ramage could distinguish the wavetops dancing grey and menacing as they swept under the ship, hurried westwards by the Trade wind. He shivered and pulled at his cloak: this was the most miserable part of the day - the grey light washed out colours and the sea always seemed more menacing, and the almost inevitable line of low cloud to windward was stark and black, as though heralding bad weather.

 He knew the colours would soon come, the sea lose its threat and the line of cloud would probably disappear once the sun had some warmth in it; but it was the time of day when he had little strength to fight off the doubts and fears which, this morning of all mornings, seemed to wriggle into his soul like silent snakes; the serpents that ate away a man's confidence but which were driven back whence they came once the sun lifted over the horizon. One of the advantages of living on land was you could sleep through the hours of grey doubts.

 He looked astern at the Calypso's wake, a smooth swathe through the waves. At that moment Aitken shouted: "Lookouts to the masthead! "

 The two men standing amidships on each side ran to the shrouds: one started up the ratlines of the foremast, the second went hand over hand up the main. The other four men went to their stations for action. By the time the two lookouts were aloft and had taken a good look all round the horizon, visibility would be two hundred yards. Aitken had timed it well - but he had several years' experience, Ramage thought to himself and, the way the war was going, had several more years ahead of him.

 How he hated the smell of damp wool. His cloak had a fair share of salt on it from the spray and it soaked up the damp of the night. It was chilly and he was hungry: he would be glad when the ship stood down from general quarters and the galley fire could be lit. He stared round the horizon, expanding quickly now, and suddenly there was a hail from high overhead:

 Deck there! Sail ho! "

 "Where away?" Aitken shouted.

 "Dead ahead, sir, two miles or less, an' crossing our bow to the westward! "

 It would be another neutral; Ramage was sure of that. Another Jonathan bound for one of the Spanish ports along this stretch of the Main with a cargo of salt cod and 'notions'. She'd have made a landfall at Punta Penas - probably passing the Calypso to windward in the darkness - and was now running westward for her destination. And, arriving there, she would report seeing an English frigate in the area, thus raising the alarm . . .

 "Deck there! " This was the lookout at the foremast. "She's a small brig."

 "Aye, aye, " Aitken acknowledged.

 Brig? Still, Ramage thought, she could be an American, though most of them were schooners. She was unlikely to be Spanish this far to the east: Santa Cruz was still about seventy-five miles farther along the coast. It was the nearest Main port to the Atlantic for any ships trying to break the blockade, having slipped out of Cadiz in a gale of wind on a dark night and dodged the patrolling frigates, but such ships were rare.

 "I can see her, sir, " Aitken said, and told the quartermaster to bear away a point to starboard. "Fine on our starboard bow."

 Ramage was more interested in having a cup of hot tea, a pleasure which had now been put off for at least an hour by the appearance of this brig. "Very well, " he said, and began walking up and down along the starboard side. There was no way of stopping the wretched American raising the alarm: he would have seen the Calypso by now. Damn all neutrals!

 All round the ship the men were standing at the guns; along the centre line the ship's boys squatted on the cylindrical wooden cartridge cases they had carried up from the magazine. The sand sprinkled on the dampened deck grated underfoot, but the light was at last bringing out the colours. He went over to the binnacle drawer and took up his telescope. He pulled out the extension tube to the mark filed in the metal to show the correct focus for him and, balancing against the aftermost gun, looked at the brig. She was small, she was pierced for eight guns - and she was Spanish: that was clear from the cut of her sails.

 "Mr Aitken, " he called and, as soon as the First Lieutenant was standing beside him, said quietly: "Take a good look at her - she's a typical Spanish guarda costa. She's looking for smugglers."