All this would explain that boat, which was now only three or four hundred yards away, and it was the only explanation that made any sense. The Dutch did not have scores of British prisoners for whom they would want to arrange an exchange. And - he was pleased with himself for the deduction - it would explain the ten privateers anchored and looking abandoned: if the Netherlands had just signed a peace treaty with Britain, she would now be neutral or an ally. In either case these French privateers would not be able to use Amsterdam as a base. They would have been seized or interned. It was so obvious that he was almost angry with himself for not having thought of it the first time the Calypso passed Amsterdam. Yet the first time - only yesterday, he realized - there had been no flags of truce. Nor was there a ship in the port now - not that he could see, anyway - that could have brought the news while the Calypso had been up at the western end of the island dealing with La Perle. He turned to Aitken: 'Side ropes are rigged? Sideboys ready?'

'Yes, sir,' Aitken said patiently, making a note, like hundreds of first lieutenants before him, that when he became a captain he would not interfere in routine affairs. Of course the visitors, as they climbed the battens forming a ladder up the ship's side, would be able to grip a rope in each hand for support. Boys would be stationed at various points down the battens, holding the ropes out and away from the ship's side, making it easier for a climber to hold on.

Ramage watched the boat and considered the position. Supposing it was in fact peace with the Netherlands - the Batavian Republic, as it was now called. The Calypso would be the - first ship to arrive after it, and no doubt Ramage and his officers would be entertained by the Governor to celebrate. In return, the Calypso - Ramage, rather - would have to give a dinner. Or, better still, a small ball. Dancing on the quarterdeck with awning rigged and lanterns in the rigging - women loved it. The true romance of the sea, one of them had once said at a ball he had attended in a flagship. Soft lights from lanthorns (which, if you inspected them closely, contained sooty and smelly candles), the atmosphere of a ship of war (comprising mostly an unpleasant odour from the bilges, but sometimes mis could be drowned by a shrewd captain who, a few hours before the ball began, had the rigging near the quarterdeck liberally soaked with Stockholm tar, which was the smell roost landlubbers associated with ships), and the sight of the shiny black guns and the roundshot in racks nearby (producing girlish shrieks, though none of the visitors ever stopped to think that the roundshot represented death and destruction) - all this provided an atmosphere of seduction far more potent than the most carefully prepared boudoir.

It was hard to understand but it was a fact. Any officer with designs on a woman's virtue was more likely to be successful if he could get her on board one of the King's ships for a couple of hours than he would be in a couple of hours of her company in an elegant drawing room. Stockholm tar was, apparently, more romantic than the perfume of roses; the faint smell of a ship o' war's bilge outbid any pomander filled with all the aromatic spices specially mixed by a knowing Cupid or procurer. The train of thought which took him from the sight of a boat bearing foreign army officers to thoughts of seduction on the quarterdeck showed him that he had been at sea too long ...

Now Aitken was at the entry port, leaning out and giving orders. Seamen forward were taking a boat's painter; more men farther aft were throwing down a line to be used as a sternfast. As he walked slowly forward Ramage hoped that, whoever the visitors were, they spoke English or had brought a translator with them: he did not speak a word of Dutch. Or perhaps one of them spoke French (or even Spanish, a hangover from Spain's long occupation). The Netherlands, he admitted, was a country about which he knew very little; in fact, like most Royal Navy officers, his knowledge was limited to a healthy respect for the Dutch both as seamen and fighters.

A black shako with a red, white and blue cockade and a small peak (too small to keep the sun out of the wearer's eyes), a blue tailcoat which had each side of the tail turned back and buttoned to show a white lining, a high collar with white piping round the edge, white epaulets with two red stripes along them, aiguillettes, blue breeches, high brown boots - and no sword. Ramage watched as the young officer scrambled up the last few steps and stepped on to the gangway. There he stopped, obviously a stranger to ships. Then he saw Aitken and, recognizing him as an officer, was about to speak, but the first lieutenant gestured towards Ramage.

As the officer walked a few steps towards him Ramage saw another head at the break in the bulwark. The fat man was sending his aides on ahead!

'You are the captain, sir?'

The English was good, slightly guttural.

As Ramage nodded the young Dutch officer came smartly to attention and saluted, giving his name, which Ramage did not catch as he returned the salute. By now the second officer had arrived and took the place of the first, who stepped two paces to his left and said something in Dutch which resulted in another smart salute. Ramage gave his own name but cursed himself for failing to catch the second officer's name, though it sounded something like Lausser.

The second officer, a little older than the first and obviously his senior, said carefully: 'Captain Ramage, we come under a flag of truce, and His Excellency Governor van Someren wishes to pay you a visit.'

'Where is Governor van Someren?' Ramage asked, wondering about the plump man still down in the boat.

'He is waiting,' the Dutch officer said warily. 'He wishes to be assured that you will observe the flag of truce.'

'You have my assurance,' Ramage said formally. The truce will of course end once your boat is safely back in Amsterdam.'

That is agreeable, sir. If you will excuse me for a minute.'

He did not move until Ramage, for a moment expecting him to turn away at once, nodded his approval. With that the officer walked to the break in the bulwark and called down something in rapid Dutch, and then waited.

The two highest sideboys holding out the manropes were obviously taking a strain; then a stocky man with high cheekbones and widely - spaced blue eyes with thin white eyebrows was stepping on board. His face was shaded by a straw hat; he wore a mustard - coloured coat and matching breeches with highly - polished brown knee - boots. His skin was tanned; he was used to the Tropics. He was not nervous, but he was not entirely at ease either: he had obviously come to ask for something.

That was as much as Ramage could absorb before the officer had led him over to Ramage and said: 'Governor, may I introduce Captain Ramage of His Britannic Majesty's Navy. Captain Ramage, I have the honour to present His Excellency the Governor of Curacao and the representative here of the Batavian Republic, Citizen Gottlieb van Someren.'

Protocol demanded a salute and Ramage gave it. Governor van Someren removed his hat and gave a deep bow, but not before Ramage noted the flicker of annoyance which had shown round his eyes when his aide introduced him as 'Citizen'. No doubt when the House of Nassau ruled the Netherlands - until February of 1793, in other words - van Someren had been one of the Dutch nobility. Since then he had managed to keep his head on his shoulders while the. occupying French renamed his country the Republic of the United Provinces and then, more recently, the Batavian Republic. Now, anyway, in public and in front of strangers, he had to be 'citoyen'. Now what? The Governor replaced his hat but the two aides were still rigidly at attention. Did the Governor speak English? Whatever it was, he was more likely to speak freely if he did not have witnesses of his own nation.