Ramage wiped the pen and put it in the rack. If only he could guess the rest of the story! By midnight - if he was still alive - he would know; but by midnight something unexpected might have happened so that Gianna never received the letter. Now the depression and doubting was coming back ... It always happened: like the cold and misery of the hour before dawn, this chill spread over him before going into battle. Not exactly fear but something dam' close to it. The feeling of not being sure whether he was going to be sick or fall ill with a fever, yet appearing confident or whimsical, firm or flippant, in front of his officers and men.

 There was shouting on deck: Aitken was giving orders that would get the ship under way again, so Wagstaffe must have boarded and his boat would be towing astern. A minute or two later the Marine sentry announced him and the Lieutenant, his face sunburned despite his tan - there was no awning over the Santa Barbara's quarterdeck - appeared, clear-eyed and cheerful.

 "How do you find the Santa Barbara! " Ramage asked.

 "She handles well, sir. Just about every rope is badly stretched and turned end for end, but the sails are in good condition. The whole ship's riddled with vermin, though; the lice are fighting the fleas for a chance to get at us."

 Ramage nodded and told Wagstaffe to sit in the chair beside the desk to receive his orders.

 "First, the papers. This is a copy of the signals in the Spanish signal book and here are drawings of the flags - Orsini has been busy with his water colours in case the actual flags aren't marked. These are your written orders - don't bother to read them now because I want to talk to you about them - and here, " Ramage paused a moment as he selected a roll from the rack over his head, "is a chart which shows all we know about Santa Cruz."

 For the next fifteen minutes Ramage outlined what Wagstaffe and the Santa Barbara would do. There were three possibilities, and he emphasized that he would probably leave it to the last moment before deciding which to select. "Now, the boats. Your two boats and the Marines are the key to the whole thing. They must work fast but they mustn't make mistakes. Pick a dozen good men for each one. I'll let you have more if you think it leaves you short."

 Wagstaffe shook his head. "No, sir, just the extra boat will be enough." He hesitated, and then began: "But, sir . . ."

 Ramage raised an eyebrow, guessing what was coming.

 "Could - well, sir, Baker is experienced now, and I feel I can be of more help if I -"

 Ramage held up his hand. "You have this job for one reason. I need Aitken for something else. You are next senior. In fact if you make one mistake you'll wreck everything. I've told you all the alternatives that I can think of, but I can't be expected to guess everything the Dons can do."

 He spoke very deliberately. "It's a great mistake to assume the enemy is a fool: many battles are lost through underestimating the opposition. But sometimes the enemy can be more foolish than you expect, or unprepared, or a dozen other things. For instance, the three hundred soldiers on board the Jocasta have just been taken off and sent into the hills against the Indians. That was unexpected from everyone's point of view."

 He tapped the top of the desk for emphasis. "The forts may blow us out of the water, the Mayor may come out in a gilded barge to take the Captain-General's nephew to a banquet, you might run the Santa Barbara aground, it might suddenly pour with rain so we can't see what we're doing . . . You agree all those things are possible?"

 Wagstaffe nodded uneasily, wishing he had kept his mouth shut.

 "Very well. In every case you will have to do the right thing without waiting for orders from me. And there could be a dozen more things."

 The Second Lieutenant was still not convinced, but then Ramage said: "Aitken wants to change jobs with you. He doesn't know what I have in mind for him, but he'd like to command the Santa Barbara. Do you really want to exchange?"

 Wagstaffe paused for a second and then shook his head vigorously. "No, sir; indeed, I'm flattered you have such trust in me."

 Ramage shrugged his shoulders. "You can do it, all right; it's just that I don't want you to underestimate what you might have to do. And remember, no more men on deck than the Santa Barbara had in her original Spanish crew - twenty, was it?"

 "Twenty-one, sir. Oh yes, I need a fat man."

 "Do you, by Jove! "

 "The Spanish captain: he's a very distinctive - ah, shape. There's a spare uniform on board. I thought I might -"

 "Take the cook's mate, " Ramage said, and laughed at the thought of the plump little man dressed up as the captain of the Santa Barbara. "Take care of him, though; no one slaughters and dresses a sheep better than he does. Any questions? Very well, you'd better get back on board the Santa Barbara and steer for Santa Cruz. But wait for a few minutes while I give Rennick his orders."

 In his cabin an hour later Ramage looked round at Aitken, Baker, Southwick and Paolo. Either the plan was better than he thought or familiarity was breeding affection. He had explained it three times now - to Wagstaffe, Rennick and now the three staying with him in the Calypso - and so far no one had pointed out a flaw. Nor, he realized, had anyone pointed out how much it depended on luck, so their opinions were of little significance. He looked across at the First Lieutenant.

 "Aitken - you have everything ready?"

 The Scotsman tapped the rolled chart and signal book. "Ready for whatever is served up, sir."

 "Baker . . . Southwick?"

 Neither the Third Lieutenant nor the Master had any questions, and Ramage glanced across to Paolo, who was present as part of his training. "Orsini, you look as though something is bothering you! "

 "Should I have a cutlass or a pistol, sir?"

 Ramage smiled at the boy's eager face. "Have both. Now, you understand what you have to do?"

 "Oh yes, sir! "

 "Very well. Now, gentlemen, I want to emphasize this. In a few hours you'll be actors on a stage, but if you're unconvincing you'll get cannonballs fired at you, not boos and catcalls."

 They all laughed, but they knew that the Captain was only just joking. Ramage guessed that no group of the King's officers had ever received such bizarre orders. He had a sense of unreality in giving them, and could only admire the way they had all simply nodded from time to time as he spoke, as though they were routine instructions for entering harbour and saluting the Commander-in-Chief. No doubting looks, no carefully worded questions intended to hint that the Captain was wrong. On the contrary: if anything they seemed both amused and pleased with their orders.

 "Very well, Mr Aitken; muster the ship's company aft and I'll let them into the secret."

 Ten minutes later Ramage stood on top of the big capstan looking down at his men grouped round him on the quarterdeck. He was puzzled and his face was flushed. Just at the moment the men should have been looking serious and listening attentively, they had burst out laughing. Jackson, the cook, Rossi, Stafford, the shrivelled little gunner were amused; they were slapping each other on the back and two or three were pretending to start a hornpipe.

 Suddenly he realized the significance of their reaction and he grinned and waited for the laughter to subside, as though he had expected it. Then he held up his hand.

 "Tomorrow, I'll remind you, is a new day. Half a dozen of you will have to clean up the decks, and the First Lieutenant will need half a dozen men to polish the brass -"

 He broke off again as the men roared with laughter, and one man - was it Stafford? - called out: "Half a dozen men? You're spoiling us, sir." This was the moment to stop; they were in high spirits and just in the mood for the task in hand. He gave a wave, vaulted off the capstan and went down the companionway to his cabin, catching sight of Pico de Santa Fe as he turned. It was very close now, towering high and forbidding; he could imagine it being the legendary home of proud and vengeful Indian gods ...