The Frenchman had spoken very formally and was obviously sincere. Ramage remembered Bazin and said casually, giving his name the English pronunciation: 'Nicholas Ramage, capi-taine de vaisseau.' Duroc nodded and repeated the name. Suddenly he looked up, wide - eyed. 'Lord Ramage?'

Ramage nodded.

'Merde! Then this is a trap!'

The change was so sudden Ramage was unsure whether to be flattered or insulted. 'What do you mean, a trap?'

Clearly Duroc was now a very frightened man; he was folding and refolding the chart like a nun "with a rosary. 'Well, you - why, it is well known that ..."

That what?'

'I don't know,' Duroc admitted lamely. 'But capturing that convoy off Martinique, and the frigates . . .'

'I could of course smash La Perle's chain pump, stave in all the boats, and cast you adrift. The ship would sink and you'd all drown in - half an hour?'

'Less. And I cannot swim.'

'But instead I have left you water and boats, given you a chart so that you can sail to safety, and provided an escort This "trap" has a strange bait, Captain Duroc. I wonder if you would be as generous if our positions were reversed?'

'No, forgive me,' Duroc said. 'I spoke hastily. It was the shock of finding out who you are. You have a certain - well, a certain reputation.'

'Not for cruelty, I trust.'

'Oh no I Nothing to your discredit, milord.'

Ramage waved to one of the sentries. 'Fetch the French officer called Bazin.'

He sat down at his desk and turned the chair so that he could see the door, telling the Marine sentry: Take this prisoner into the coach, and keep him there until I call you. You won't need a lantern; just keep your cutlass pressing against his shoulder blades.' He then explained to Duroc that he would have to wait in the next cabin.

Bazin, in contrast to Duroc, had regained some of his courage or, Ramage thought, more likely he had been goaded by the other two lieutenants into truculent belligerency.

'Sit down,' Ramage told him. The time has come for us to say farewell.'

'I expected nothing more,' Bazin sneered.

'Nothing more than what?'

'You haven't shot us; I presume you will now throw us over the side.'

'Yes,' Ramage could not resist saying, 'you are all going over the side in a few minutes.'

'Ha! I knew from the first you were an assassin]' Tell me, how did you discover that?'

The way you murdered Captain Duroc.'

'Oh, that!' Ramage said in an offhand voice, suspecting that the Frenchman in the next cabin would be amused. 'What else did you expect? Surely such a man does not deserve to live?'

That may be so,' Bazin exclaimed angrily, 'but who are you to kill him?'

Ramage shrugged his shoulders. He was not a true republican.'

'I know that well enough,' Bazin said as he half rose but sank back when he saw the Marine's cutlass. 'But that is no reason for you, an aristo, to murder us.'

'But why should I murder him but spare you?' Ramage enquired mildly.

'Because . . . well, because . . . what I mean is, you should not murder me because I am a true republican; I believe in the freedom and equality of man. But Duroc - he was an opportuniste. He was a bosun before the Revolution. He joined the Revolution only to get promotion!'

Ramage took out his watch and inspected it Ten minutes before midnight, citoyen. For us,' and he could not resist putting a slight emphasis on 'us', 'the new day is about to begin.'

He called to the sentry in the other cabin, and a minute later Duroc stamped through the door. Bazin leapt to his feet like a rocket, white - faced, crashed his head against the beam, and fell flat at Duroc's feet. The French captain looked across at Ramage, a grin on his face. 'He knows all about revolutions. By dawn he'll know all about working a chain pump, too. You have a droll sense of humour, milord, but it brings out the truth at times.'

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Amsterdam's houses were painted in gay colours which the glaring sun emphasized without making them garish. The owners on the Punda side obviously preferred pinks and light blues while Otrabanda favoured reds, greens and white, but most of the roofs, steeply pitched and gabled in the Dutch style, had red tiles, in contrast to the wooden shingles favoured in the British islands. It was curious about the colour preferences but, Ramage thought, the explanation was probably mundane: the paint shop on one side stocked some colours; its rival the others.

The channel separating the two halves of the town was stained brown as it joined Sint Anna Baai, probably due to the slight rise and fall of tide draining out some of the water as it ebbed from the Schottegat, the inland lake.

The fort on Punda, Waterfort, seemed quiet enough; nor was there any sign of movement at Riffort on Otrabanda, 'the other side'. The Dutch flags were flying from flagpoles on both forts; it was also flying from the building that Ramage assumed was Government House.

Amsterdam, Ramage decided, was an oddly attractive and typically Dutch town set down on an arid and desolate island whose sole function was to be the main Dutch trading post in the Caribbean. The Dutch had done their best to make the town look cheerful and they had succeeded. If you forgot the heat and the bright glare, Amsterdam could be any town built along a canal in the Netherlands. Certainly the general flatness of the island (if one did not look to the west as the hills began and rolled up to Sint Christoffelberg) made you think that the average Dutchman was only happy on flat land, although from seaward small hills gave the appearance of waves in a choppy sea.

The privateers were at anchor just at the entrance to Schottegat and still had the laid - up - out - of - commission look about them. He had only a fleeting glance of them through the telescope as the Calypso tacked in towards the shore, but it was enough to show him that nothing had changed since they had passed on their way to the west end of the island.

Aitken shut his telescope with a snap. That fresh lot of smoke near Willebrordus puzzles me, sir. I'm sure it's from burning buildings. Black smoke with the white. If it was just scrub and grass burning, it would be white.'

'And I'm sure I could hear gunfire,' Wagstaffe said. No one else had heard it, but they had been almost to leeward of the smoke at the time and Ramage was quite prepared to believe the second lieutenant. Rennick, in his usual impulsive way, had wanted to be landed in Bullen Bay with a platoon of Marines to investigate, but as Ramage pointed out, gunfire and smoke in Curacao was the concern of the Dutch Governor, and the Dutch, like the French and Spanish, were the enemy . . . Fire could only mean the destruction of bush and cactus, a few scraggy divi-divi trees, aloes and agaves, and perhaps some plantation houses (not many because there were few plantations). The goats and iguana would bolt, the wild doves would take off for quieter comers of the island, and the fire would eventually burn out.

The Calypso, under topsails alone in a fifteen - knot breeze that occasionally whipped up small white caps in sudden gusts, was steering north - west towards Piscadera Baai as Ramage looked up the channel into the Schottegat. But so far the only reaction to the frigate's presence in this part of the Caribbean seemed to be fish leaping away from her stem, like dogs dodging a careering carriage, and swarms of flying fish coming up out of the water like small silver arrows without making a ripple, then skimming above the waves for scores of yards and suddenly vanishing without the tiniest splash. The frigate birds, broad - winged with thin bodies, black and white, graceful in flight (yet to Ramage always ugly and menacing), swooped down on the flying fish, showing a fantastic skill in flying but attacked by the tiny laughing gulls. The chubbier boobies flew low, and often rested on the water like old ladies sitting in a market selling their wares, beady eyes alert, or dived for a fish. Very occasionally half a dozen dolphins played under the Calypso's bow, swimming at enormous speeds and crossing ahead of her so close it seemed they must be hit by the cutwater. The cry of 'Dolphins' usually sent the off - watch men running to the bowsprit and jibboom, from where they would 'ooooh!' and 'aaaah!' until the dolphins vanished as quickly as they arrived.