'I've never met a punctual Frenchman.'

True, sir, true,' Southwick said soothingly, 'you did warn us we might have to wait a day or two. Still, we may pick up a Spanish prize by this evening - they must trade between Amsterdam and the Main. I seem to remember all the fruit and vegetables for the islands come from the Main in small schooners; they have a market in Amsterdam, selling direct from the schooners.'

Ramage nodded, already regretting his sourness. They have so little rain that they must get fresh food from somewhere. But a prize schooner laden with bananas and cabbages . . .'

The men would be glad of fresh cabbage instead of that sauerkraut, sir. We have to open a cask today.'

Neither Ramage nor Southwick mentioned the prize regulations: there were times when a sensible captain ignored them. The regulations said that any ship taken in prize had to have its hatches sealed and be sent into a British port, where it would be inventoried, valued and sold at auction. There was no provision in the regulations for capturing a small Spanish schooner or sloop laden with perishable fruit and vegetables. A prize would have to be sent to Jamaica, some 700 miles to the north - west. The chances of such a vessel staying afloat for a long voyage (local schooners and sloops were roughly and cheaply built) were slight, and a fruit and vegetable cargo would be rotting within hours and almost explosive in a couple of days. A schooner full of exploding bananas ... v A wise captain, ever on the watch for scurvy and the fresh fruit and vegetables that could prevent it, would in such a case take off the cargo, sink the prize, land the two or three men on board, or let them off in their boat, and make a note in the ship's log implying the capture was only the size of a rowing boat, and therefore scuttled. It would be different if a schooner was laden with tobacco, grown on the Main and shipped to Curacao - that would be worth a lot of money.

'We'll return to Amsterdam, patrolling about five miles off,' Ramage said, 'and Lacey can take La Creole in closer every four or five hours to look at the privateers and generally rattle the bars."

'Can we stay close in with the coast, sir? I'd like to have another look at where we saw those fires.'

So Southwick was intrigued as well. 'As close as you want: there's deep water right up to the shore, isn't there?'

'My chart says "No bottom at 100 fathoms" to within a hundred yards or so, sir, and the water's crystal clear. I reckon once the sun's up you'll see the bottom at ten fathoms or more. Coral reefs just off the beaches and sometimes up to five hundred yards off.'

Ramage looked astern, and La Creole was still as close as if she were on a short tow. 'Mr Wagstaffe, well wear ship in a few minutes and make our way back to Amsterdam. Make a signal to La Creole- 1 don't want his bowsprit poking through our stern lights while I'm eating my breakfast.'

The foremast lookout gave an excited hail: 'Deck there!' Southwick, Wagstaffe and Ramage all stared at each other, then looked upwards. Wagstaffe ran to the binnacle drawer for the speaking trumpet, but Southwick cupped his hands and roared: 'Foremast lookout - deck here! What do you see?'

'Sail on the larboard bow, an' I think she's steering towards us. Reckon she's a ship o' war; could be a frigate, sir!'

'Wear ship at once and make a signal to La Creole,' Ramage snapped. 'Send Jackson aloft with a telescope. Muster a party on the fo'c'sle and make sure they have heaving lines handy.'

He waited until Wagstaffe and Southwick had given those orders and watched as the Calypso swung round, away from the distant ship and heading towards Amsterdam. Men hauled on sheets and braces, trimming the yards and sails so that the frigate was now sailing eastwards, parallel with the coast, the sun giving a hint that it was about to rise on the larboard bow.

'What the devil's happened to Jackson?' he snapped. He did not expect an answer and turned to watch La Creole. She was still in the Calypso's wake and Lacey was handling the schooner well, but the next ten minutes would finally show whether he was a natural leader or just another lucky young man commanding by virtue of a piece of parchment signed by a commander-in-chief.

And then Jackson was hailing from the masthead: 'She's three - masted, sir, everything set to the royals. Hull below the horizon, but she's a frigate and from the cut of her sails looks French to me.'

Southwick caught Ramage's eye and winked cheerfully. That's her, sir; Jackson's never mistaken.'

Ramage nodded. 'Make the special signal to La Creole,' be told Wagstaffe, 'and as soon as she hauls dear of our wake, back the foretopsail and heave - to on the larboard tack.'

'Beat to quarters, sir?' Southwick asked.

'No, not yet; we've plenty of time and a lot to do.'

He glanced round and saw Gianna's nephew scurrying up the quarterdeck ladder. He was off watch, but obviously had heard the hailing.

'Orsini!' Ramage barked, holding out a small key. Top right - hand drawer of my desk - fetch me the French signal book. And lock the drawer again.' Then, just as the boy turned away, Ramage remembered, 'It's in the weighted canvas bag, along with the other papers. Make sure you secure the neck of the bag again before you lock the drawer.'

That small canvas bag, containing the secret daily challenge and reply for the next three months, along with the extra copy of the British signal book and his orders, and weighted with a six - pound bar of lead, was the most valuable object in the Calypso: if she was about to be captured by the enemy, that bag had to be thrown in the sea. If it fell into enemy hands and Ramage survived, he would be court - martialled as soon as the Admiralty could get their hands on him, and ruined. No excuses were ever accepted for that, and every captain knew it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Captains, Paolo thought to himself as he scurried down the companionway; they always treat everyone else as a fool. All Uncle Nicholas need have said was: 'Get the French signal book from the top drawer - - .' If it was not on lop, he'd have guessed it was in the canvas bag, and he'd have unlaced it, taken the book out, and laced the bag again. All without having to be told.

Nod to the Marine sentry and a quick explanation: 'On the captain's business.' The sudden darkness of the cabin, the key in the lock, and there's the bag. The canvas coarse, the brass eyelets for the roping going green with corrosion caused by the salty sea air. And that's it, the signal book - funny how he thought in English now, and saw the French language on the cover quite differently than when he lived in Italy and French was always the second language.

A wonderfully precise language, English: you could be so exact But, he thought ruefully, remembering Mr Southwick's stern questioning during navigation and mathematics lessons, that was one of the language's drawbacks: Italian and French allowed you to give a more evasive, even imaginative, answer, there was more scope for disguising the fact you didn't know something; for dissembling. But Mr Southwick taught mathematics and navigation in English; good down - to - earth and unambiguous English.

Lock the drawer again, don't lose the key. What is Uncle Nicholas planning? All that amount of anchor cable ranged on the foredeck. 'Ranged' - a good word, that. Surely he's not intending to anchor close inshore? It is the lightest of all the cables, and there's no anchor bent on. Nor, for that matter, would the cable be ranged on the fo'c'sle if he was going to anchor.

If only he'd been on deck sooner he would probably have been sent to the masthead with Jackson. Paolo loved it aloft, the ship small and narrow - beamed below him, the men tiny, like lizards scurrying on a marble floor. Ah well, he was too late to go with Jacko, so belay the grumbling.