As the topmen raced up the ratlines to the yards Ramage shouted two orders rarely heard in a frigate because it was unusual for such a ship to be using mooring buoys while in commission.

 "Let go forward! "

 A splash and then a shout from the fo'c'sle told Ramage that the buoy had been dropped to starboard.

 "Let go aft! "

 A call from Southwick told him the buoy and buoy pendants were clear of the rudder. Now the wind was beginning to drift the Jocasta ahead, to the north, with the entrance channel over to the north-west. Ramage pointed the speaking trumpet aloft to give the next sequence of orders to the topmen which would bring the topsails tumbling down like great curtains.

 "Trice up - lay out! "

 In the darkness the men scrambled out along the yards, their hands feeling for the gaskets, the canvas strips securing the furled sails, while the studding sail booms were triced up out of the way.

 The next order was to the afterguard down on deck: "Man the topsail sheets! " Again the speaking trumpet was pointed up at the yards: "Let fall! " The topsails flopped down and at the same instant Ramage snapped: "Sheet home! " The wind slowly pressed out the creases in the canvas; then the sheets put a curve into the sails.

 Ramage gave the final orders to the topmen. The studding sail booms were lowered back into position; then came: "Down from aloft! "

 But the topsails were still far from being ready to draw. "Man the topsail halyards, " he shouted, and as soon as the seamen were ready: "Haul taut! "

 A shout had the men ready at the braces, but first came: "Hoist the topsails! "

 The yards were hoisted several feet up the masts and then Ramage gave the orders which turned the Jocasta’s wheel to head her two points to larboard, braced the yards round and trimmed the sails on the new course.

 Ramage could hear the water bubbling along the frigate's side as she picked up speed. The lagoon was almost mirror smooth, and the moon, higher now and showing the wind shadows, outlined the channel running north. The Santa Barbara was already sailing along the channel heading for the sea; the Calypso was over on the Jocasta's larboard quarter, and Aitken was preparing to follow into the channel.

 Southwick stood beside Ramage ahead of the binnacle. "Thought we'd hear from the castle up there, " he said, gesturing over his shoulder at Castillo de Santa Fe, now astern of them. "We might at any moment, " Ramage said, irritated by a superstitious fear that the guns would start firing now Southwick had mentioned them.

 "Doubt it. I'll bet they're chattering about it though."

 "I'm glad I'm not the commandant. Just imagine it: the two frigates he's supposed to be protecting suddenly get under way."

 "Aye - does he open fire or doesn't he?" Southwick said.

 "And he's fairly certain that it's all a mistake. Someone – the Mayor or the Port Captain - notified him that they would be getting under way, but the letter went astray."

 "That's true, sir: no Spaniard trusts his own folk with paperwork; he knows the things that can go wrong."

 Ramage turned to Jackson and gave him a new course. The Jocasta turned slightly to larboard and then Ramage saw all the way up the channel. The hills cast too many shadows to be sure at this distance that he could see the forts on either side, but he could distinguish the Santa Barbara as a small black patch at the far end.

 Then the Jocasta was in the channel with a following wind that was steady. The land was low on each side but within a few hundred yards it began to rise like petrified waves, higher and higher until it ended in the sheer drop of the cliffs forming the entrance.

 The Santa Barbara was back in the middle of the channel: she was too far off for him to be sure but it looked as though her topsails were being let fall again. It was likely: Wagstaffe would have clewed them up to take some of the way off the ship while the Marines climbed into the boats.

 "That Rennick, " Southwick growled. "I hope he doesn't lose his head."

 "The only way would be for a roundshot to take it off, " Ramage said. "He's calm enough."

 "Aye, sir, but -"

 "We'll soon see, " Ramage said shortly. "Just inspect the men at quarters."

 The guns had been loaded and run out, and although their 12-pound shot would make little impression on the forts they might keep the Jocastas happy if they came under fire. He knew from experience there was nothing more demoralizing than being shot at without being able to fire back.

 He saw that the Calypso was now in the channel too; Aitken was following less than one hundred yards astern of the Jocasta. In line with the Calypso's masts was the Castillo de Santa Fe, brooding over the lagoon. It was not as high as Ramage originally thought, and the range to a ship at the entrance would be a mile. Just right for trained gunners firing in daylight, but perhaps too much at night for excited men who were rarely drilled.

 Ramage picked up the nightglass and looked forward. One of the irritations of using a nightglass was that it gave an inverted picture, and he could see the Santa Barbara sailing along upside down with the sea in place of the sky. However there was no doubt that she was under way; another fifty yards or so and she would be abreast the two forts, while another fifty yards would bring her to the open sea. And there were her boats, hauled up on the narrow strip of beach on each side of the channel. But there were no flashes along the battlements of Castillo San Antonio or El Pilar; neither the firefly-flicker of pistols and muskets nor the red lightning of cannon.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 Rennick had selected his two parties with care. Although he was an officer short - a 36-gun frigate should have a Marine second lieutenant as well as a first lieutenant - at least the Admiral had given him the full complement of NCOS and men. Lacking a second lieutenant, he had put his sergeant in command of the second party, but he was a steady man who had the sharper of the two corporals to back him up.

 Every one of the Marines had looked carefully at the hills and the forts as the Santa Barbara had sailed in: half of them had watched to larboard studying San Antonio, half to starboard had watched El Pilar. Rennick knew there was no chance of the men remembering all that they had seen; it was more important that they saw the kind of task that faced them, particularly the climb up the twisting paths, which were little more than goat tracks.

 Rennick grinned to himself as he recalled the looks on the faces of the sergeant and corporals as he passed on the orders given him by Captain Ramage. They would all wear dark clothes - if necessary they were to dye or dirty duck trousers. Every man's face and hands were to be blackened - they had been lucky to find a supply of corks in the boatswain's store on board the Santa Barbara. The men were to be armed with pistols and cutlasses or pikes; they were not to carry muskets. And a few minutes before they went in to attack they were to tie narrow strips of white cloth round their foreheads to distinguish friend from foe. The blackened faces and dark clothes were to disguise them as they approached the castle; once inside it would not matter.

 Now the seamen stopped rowing and the keel of the boat scraped on some coral before running up on the sand with a hiss. The grapnel dropped a few yards out held the boat's stern so that she did not broach, and Rennick gave his first low-pitched order: "All Marines out and rendezvous at the back of the beach."

 He listened intently, but there was no crack of wood or metal hitting wood: the men were being careful with their cutlasses and pikes. That kind of noise carried a long way on a night like this. A moment later he was vaulting out of the boat, squelching through the water and then up the sharp slope of the beach.