"How did the Spaniards get on?" he asked.

 Bowen shook his head. "You'll hardly believe it, sir. Twenty-three dead and forty-one wounded. I don't know how many will see the dawn. And if you'll excuse me, sir, I'll get below again. The only thing is there are no gunshot or splinter wounds."

 Ramage nodded as the Surgeon turned away. Sixty-four Spanish dead and wounded - nearly a third of her complement. Ramage had discovered from the Spanish captain that there had been 181 men on board. Another third were missing - they had jumped overboard - and a third, seventy or so men, were prisoners, along with the twenty from the Santa Barbara.

 Tomorrow there would be funerals. Five British and twenty-three Spaniards would "go over the standing part of the main sheet". Twenty-eight times the bodies of men, sewn up in hammocks and with a roundshot at the feet, would be put on a wide plank hinged on the bulwark in way of the mainsheet where the standing part was secured to the ship's side; twenty-eight times Ramage would have to read the appropriate passage from the funeral service, and the plank would be hinged up to allow the body to slide off into the sea. Twenty-eight times - providing the Jocasta managed to get past the forts without being fired on.

 Twenty-eight men dead because a seaman called Summers talked his shipmates into mutiny - although one should include the captain and officers who were murdered, and the various mutineers later executed. Twenty-eight men dead, the ghost of Summers might argue, because Captain Nicholas Ramage saw fit to attempt a cutting out which another captain had already said was impossible. Yet, blaming himself, Summers, Admiral Davis or Eames didn't bring anyone back to life; he knew he should be thankful to Bowen, because without even looking he knew that several of the wounded were alive only because of the Surgeon's skill.

 Southwick pulled out his watch. "Five minutes to moonrise, sir, then we'll have to wait another ten minutes or so before it gets up clear of the hills."

 "Very well, you and Aitken had better make sure that we are all ready."

 When the two men had gone Ramage took the four books which had been sitting on the top of the desk, slid them into a drawer and turned the key. The Spanish order book, letter book, captain's journal and the signal book for the Jocasta - La Perla, rather. The first two would make interesting reading; it was a pity there was no time to go through them now.

 The muscles of his stomach gave a spasm of protest as he began to get up. That he was lucky to be alive was plain from the damaged pistol now in the second drawer of the desk and the cut in the front flap of his trousers. The horizontal slash from that Spaniard's cutlass had hit him in the stomach, but the blow had been taken by one of the pistols tucked in his belt. The blade had hit the side of the butt and been deflected, sliding down an inch or two before coming hard up against the steel and pan cover, which had absorbed most of the impact. Sea Service pistols were clumsy and heavy, but he would never again complain about them; the sturdy construction and sheer bulk had saved his life. Nevertheless it would be a few days before he would be able to sit or walk comfortably; he felt as if he had been kicked by a horse. Apart from the pain, he did not want to think about it. His imagination ran riot when he thought of dying from a stomach wound.

 On deck there was a faint lightening in the eastern sky. The moon was almost in its last quarter, just the right strength: it would be light enough to show the edges of the channel, but Ramage was hoping it would not help the Spanish gunners in the forts too much.

 Half the Calypso's ship's company were now on board the Jocasta: they already knew their jobs on board the prize - whether they were topmen or afterguard, which gun they served, if they were to be armed with cutlass or pike, pistol or tomahawk. Fortunately that had not been a tiresome job: Aitken and Southwick had simply taken the watch, quarter and station bill for the Calypso, which showed where each of the seamen and Marines on board went for the various evolutions. The Marines and twenty men now in the Santa Barbara were removed from the list and the remainder, about 180 men, were divided into two parties: half the topmen - the nimblest and best seamen - would stay in the Calypso, half would go to the Jocasta. Aitken was now commanding the Calypso with Baker, the Third Lieutenant, and Kenton, the Fourth, to help him. Ramage would command the Jocasta, with Southwick. He would have young Orsini with him, and the Surgeon. The reason for Bowen was obvious: it was better that the wounded did not have to be transferred to the Calypso.

 Ramage looked inland, past the Pico de Santa Fe, which was now becoming more clearly outlined as the moon lifted over the hills and added its quota to the light from the stars. Over there, he reflected, up in the mountains beyond the Santa Fe, were a group of Indians who, by revolting against the Spanish, had played their part in the recapture of the Jocasta. The soldiers serving in the ship and sent off against the Indians were now back in Santa Cruz, their task completed. Had they returned a day earlier the story of the Jocasta's recapture would have been different.

 The moon was rising with its usual startling speed: the small thin crescent was now clear of the land and a silvery path of reflection was reaching across the water towards him. It was quiet and peaceful here, the two frigates lying secured to the same mooring buoys; a quiet broken only by the occasional irritable squawk of birds - night herons, complaining and chatting in their own little world.

 He found himself speaking quietly as he said to Southwick: "Have the men stand by to cast off the Calypso's lines." He picked up the speaking trumpet and called over to Aitken: "Calypso, get under way when you are ready."

 Aitken had obviously been waiting, and a series of orders crackled across the Calypso's decks: topmen were sent aloft ready to let fall the topsails; the afterguard waited to sheet home the sails and brace up the yards; more men took in the lines securing the ship to the Jocasta.

 For the moment the Calypso had to drift clear; bracing up the yards too soon and letting fall the sails would simply lock the two ships together. Ramage jumped on top of the foremost gun on the larboard side of the quarterdeck and looked forward. The gap between the two ships was widening and the Calypso was also moving away crabwise to larboard: although she had no sails set at the moment the wind was moving the ship.

 "You're well clear, " he called to Aitken. Now the Jocasta could also get under way and lead the way to the channel. Wagstaffe, waiting with the Santa Barbara, would have seen the blurred outline of the two frigates gradually divide into two distinct ships, and that would have been enough to start him on his way. And all the while the town of Santa Cruz slept, with perhaps the Mayor wondering why Captain Lopez had not come over to brag, but secure in the knowledge that the Spanish captain of the Jocasta would have dealt with everything. With any luck the officers and men of the forts too would have celebrated the bloodless capture of a new ship, so that the sentries would be careless.

 He looked up at the Castillo de Santa Fe. Was she a threat? The Santa Barbara had stayed out in the middle of the lagoon, hove-to, for a couple of hours, occasionally letting her sails draw as she sailed back up to windward, and there had been no interest shown at the fort. He hoped that the brig's unusual behaviour would have been interpreted by the soldiers up there in Santa Fe as something to do with guarding the two frigates. Or, more likely, the soldiers had taken no notice; they knew the Santa Barbara was a Spanish ship . . .

 But what would they do when they saw the Calypso get under way? He was gambling that they were likely to do nothing - because the Jocasta followed. That would make it all right; they had not been told the ships would be moving, but obviously someone had forgotten to pass the word.