The Scot put the telescope to his eye. "I can see now that her sails have that high roach the Spanish like, sir. But couldn't she be American?"

 "No - she's Mediterranean-built. Just look at that sheer and stern ... Ah! She's spotted us - see the men grouping by the guns? Run up our colours - and make the challenge, just in case she's a prize put into service from Jamaica."

 Two minutes later three flags streamed out from the Calypso's mainmast: three numbers which were the challenge and changed daily. Any British ship of war would have the diagram which also showed the correct numbers which were the reply.

 The Calypso was approaching fast and, as though she was bringing the daylight with her, Ramage could see more details. Black hull with a bright red strake; four guns a side, and they were now run out. Men scrambling aloft - going to let fall her topsails, no doubt, though little good they would do her with a frigate approaching. No answer to the challenge ... if she was a former Spaniard now commissioned into the Royal Navy, the flags for both challenge and reply would have been bent on to the halyards, ready for just such a situation as this.

 The familiar sound of a contemptuous sniff told Ramage that Southwick was now standing beside him. "These Dons - they never learn, do they? Can't trim their sails, not even with an enemy frigate bearing down on 'em."

 "Come now, " Ramage said mildly, "you forget we're a French-built ship! They can see that, and are probably going to quarters as a matter of routine and waiting to cadge a case of French wine."

 "They'll soon distinguish our colours, " the Master commented, "even though they have the light in their eyes."

 Ramage shut the telescope with an impatient snap. He must have been half asleep, because the idea he had just snatched at had been floating round his head, waiting to be hauled on board, from the moment he first recognized the ship as a guarda costa. It was not an idea that started him singing like a lark, but almost any idea was welcome at this time of the morning, and if it seemed practical at dawn the chances were better than even that it would be worthy of praise by noon.

 Southwick followed as he walked to the quarterdeck rail, and he gestured to Aitken and Rennick to join him. Quickly he gave them their orders and then sent for Wagstaffe, who was standing by a division of guns on the main deck. Finally he walked aft, where Jackson was waiting for him with his sword and a message from his steward that if the Captain wanted breakfast, cold cuts of meat could be served in a moment. The prospect of slices of cold mutton - a sheep had been killed and roasted yesterday - effectively stopped Ramage's hunger pains.

 Half an hour later, with the sun a great reddish-gold ball resting on the low band of cloud across the eastern horizon, the Calypso was sailing a hundred yards to windward of the Spanish brig and on the same course, rolling slightly. The brig had finally hoisted Spanish colours and Ramage was hard put to avoid laughing as he looked through his telescope. There was a little comedy being played out on the brig's quarterdeck.

 Her captain had watched the Calypso approach; then, as they came abreast each other, Ramage had given the order to clew up the courses so that the Calypso's speed under topsails alone matched the Spaniard's. That had been five minutes ago. For five minutes the Spanish captain had alternately stared at Ramage on the Calypso's quarterdeck and turned to make comments to his officers - judging from his gestures he was both puzzled and agitated.

 Ramage looked at his watch and commented to Southwick: "We'll give him another five minutes."

 "Aye - he should be done to a turn by then. Do you think he's thrown over his papers?"

 "I haven't seen any sign, and I've been watching closely. I think he's forgotten them."

 "It'd make sense, sir: first he thought we were French, then it went clean out of his mind when he saw British colours."

 "That's why we're going through this pantomime. The more nervous he becomes the easier it is. Fear is not knowing: he doesn't know what's going to happen next. He expected us to range close alongside and fire a few broadsides into him - and instead we are sailing along like his shadow. No guns, no hails, no signals . . ."

 "I'd be feeling jumpy if I was him, " Southwick admitted, removing his hat and running his fingers through a mop of white hair. "They've been generous with the paint, for once. And not many patches in the sails - though whoever cut them must have used army tents for a pattern."

 Ramage, the telescope to his eye once again, began laughing: "He's shaking a fist at us! "

 Again Southwick sniffed. "Trying to frighten us, no doubt. Er, what had you in mind after -"

 "Let's take her first, " Ramage said, looking once again at his watch. The fact was that the first single idea had brought others in its train; now he was mulling over various alternatives, each of which seemed excellent at the moment of birth and absurd the next.

 Southwick stared through his telescope and then turned to Ramage: "You know, sir, I'm beginning to feel sorry for that fellow over there."

 "I've been sorry for him since I started this, " Ramage said. "Still, if you're in a brig with a 36-gun frigate a cable to windward it's better to be stared at than fired at."

 He could hear his men at the guns on the main deck laughing and joking: they could see the antics of the Spanish captain, and several of them knew from experience what it was like to have the positions reversed.

 "Mr Southwick, " Ramage said with mock formality, "I'll trouble you to pass the word that number one gun on the larboard side should fire a shot across the enemy's bow."

 "It will be my pleasure, sir, " Southwick said with a bow, and replaced his hat with a flourish.

 Ramage turned aft and watched the Marines getting ready. The sergeant with six men was standing by at one of the quarter boats with Aitken who, with a cutlass slung over his shoulder and a pistol clipped to his belt, waited with ill-concealed impatience. Wagstaffe was inspecting the men who would be accompanying him in the other quarter boat.

 Ramage gave a violent start as the gun fired, and then heard Southwick's bellow of laughter.

 "You should have seen him, sir - jumped a foot off the deck! "

 "So did I, blast it, " Ramage growled.

 "There! " Southwick bellowed triumphantly, his shout almost drowning the thud of a gun firing from the guarda costa's larboard side - a gun fired in the opposite direction from the Calypso. A moment later the Spanish flag came down at the run, the brig's captain having gone through the ritual which protected him against an accusation of surrendering without firing a shot. Then seamen climbed up into the yards and began furling the topsails.

 It took an hour to ferry the guarda costa's crew across to the Calypso, and Aitken brought her captain and officers back in the first boat. The captain, a plump little man with an amiable face and an excited manner, obviously wanted to talk to the Calypso's captain, but Ramage was far more interested in what papers, if any, Aitken had managed to find.

 The Spanish captain and his two lieutenants were taken below to Southwick's cabin by two stolid Marines, and Ramage, after assuring himself that the Calypso was lying comfortably hove-to, gestured to Aitken to follow him down the companion-way. He sat down at his desk and eyed the canvas pouch in Aitken's hand. "Had he thrown the books overboard?"

 "No, sir - here." The First Lieutenant took a second canvas pouch from the one he was carrying. "This is weighted and has a signal book in it. But I found all these -" he fished out a handful of letters "- in his drawer. I can't read Spanish, but they might be important. I think they are, from the fuss he made when I found them. She's called the Santa Barbara."