'Oh yes,' Rennick said airily, 'they can watch us, but each of our men needs only a dozen rocks and he's safe behind his own musket - proof rampart'

'But we have to storm them uphill,' Ramage said, curious to see what Rennick had in mind. 'And with all these divi-divi trees and cactus and whatever those other bushes are called, the men will be slowed up. Why, you can't even see the ground for the undergrowth!'

'Attack in the dark, sir,' Rennick said. 'Or, rather, just as darkness falls. Then we can see them against the afterglow of the sunset, but we are coming from the east and attacking out of the dark half.'

'Rennick, is that really a good bet? The odds mean the bookmaker can't lose. Two defenders to one attacker, the attackers slowed up by the slope of the hill and undergrowth, with no surprise possible . . .'

The Marine officer was silent for a minute or two and then admitted: Their position does in effect give them another hundred men, I admit; but they'll be fighting with their backs to the sea, so they've cut off their own line of retreat.'

'Then they must be pretty sure they won't have to retreat,' Ramage said, deliberately making his voice sound .grim. 'Militarily we don't seem to be in a very good position."

Rennick wriggled, looked again through his telescope, and then said judicially: 'I have to agree with you, sir."

'All this military business baffles me,' Ramage suddenly admitted. 'I'd be lost the moment I went through the gateway at the Horse Guards. But as a sailor I can see we have one advantage.'

Rennick waited to hear about it and when Ramage said nothing, finally asked: 'What advantage had you in mind, sir?'

'We have the weather gage; with this south - east wind we are to windward of them.'

'But sir, I don't see how that can help us.'

'Oh, there are many advantages. We can breathe garlic over them. If they look hungry we can roast some beef over a bonfire and drive them mad with starvation as they smell the aroma. We can call out insults and be sure they hear every word.'

He scrambled back, followed by Rennick, and learned that all the lieutenants had managed to get some sleep after arriving at Sint Kruis, and they reported that except for sentries their companies were also sleeping, the seamen quite cheerfully curling up on the hard ground and in the blazing sun, the only requirement being a small pile of rocks to protect them from French fire. Sentries squatting behind larger piles were also watching for any of their own shipmates who while asleep rolled over beyond the shelter of the rock piles.

The lieutenants soon received their orders, grinning at their simplicity, and Ramage, taking one last look at the French positions, glanced over to his right and saw that the wind was still steady in strength and direction, a breeze from the east, with an extra gust every few minutes that was just strong enough to make the dust rise up in little eddies. Yes, it was east now, but one could never be sure it would not back to the north - east or veer to the south - east. There was very little cloud; a few cotton balls whose whiteness was emphasized by the hard blue of the sky. It was strange to be lying here on earth, smelling all the strange odours that went with life on land. The sharp sweetness of thyme, the spicy smells of plants and shrubs whose names he did not know.

He dosed the telescope and slid it into a pocket. The French seemed to be dozing; they bad not - so far, anyway - put out sharpshooters to keep up a hail of musket fire every time a Briton moved. Were they short of muskets, powder or shot? Surely not every man had bolted from the bonfire leaving his gun behind? Perhaps, but at least each man would have a cutlass, and this was the sort of situation which must be settled finally with the blade of a sword, the edge of a tomahawk or the point of a pike.

The wind was freshening, there was no doubt about that, and the cotton - ball clouds were swelling up with the warmth of the sun. In half an hour, with the land heating up, the breeze would be brisk as the Trade winds set in for the day. He wanted no more than that, of course. It had taken only five minutes to tell the lieutenants what he wanted done and to make sure they all understood. Some men might be killed or wounded but once again, if they obeyed orders they would have the advantage of surprise, the invisible armour which had so often protected them in the past.

Half an hour gave plenty of time for the preparations. In an hour's time, when the small hand of the watch had moved a twelfth of the way round the dial, the whole thing should be over, one way or the other: either the rebels and Frenchmen would control the island (in which case they'd hang the Governor and most of the Calypsos would be dead) or the bodies of the rebels and Frenchmen would be piled up at the top of the slope, and waggish seamen would refer to the Battle of Sint Kruis Baai. Ramage rubbed his bristly jaw and wished he could shave and dean his teeth.

At first glance it looked as if it would be a repetition of the previous night's attack, except it was broad daylight and instead of being in front of a bonfire the enemy were hiding at the top of a sloping hill. Ramage was lying flat on the hard ground with, from the feel of it, the same sharp stones digging into the same soft parts of his body. Jackson was to his left and Stafford to his right, and the only difference from the previous night's attack was that the companies were grouped evenly on each side, so that his own company was in the middle to form the vanguard, the sharp point of a wedge driving up the hill in - he glanced at his watch yet again - eleven minutes' time.

Now he was holding his watch in front of him, impatiently staring at the dial, unsure whether to regard the slowly - moving hands as friends or enemies. The two pistols pressed against his stomach, the belt hooks held them securely against the waistband of his breeches. His cutlass was beside him, ready to be snatched up. His feet throbbed, the glare made his cheek muscles ache from continually squinting. Insects buzzed or crawled while the air shimmered from the heat, the wind only moving not cooling it. There was no sign of movement up the hill; the French were having a siesta, no doubt, except for their sentries.

Ten minutes to go. They would be hungry and very thirsty, those Frenchmen. Were they waiting for a vessel to come into the bay to take them off? In theory they could, of course, be penned in until thirst forced them to surrender, but in practice many would escape in darkness.

Eight minutes. Some could scramble down the small cliff at night and into the water, and swim for a hundred yards or so, then come ashore beyond the encircling British. Perhaps half of them could swim - that was the usual proportion of swimmers in a British ship.

Seven minutes. Of course, the idea of keeping the French trapped up the hill until they surrendered for lack of water would mean quite a feat of endurance for the British, too, because they had only a quart each. A quart, rather, less what they had already drunk this morning, although they could get more. < Six minutes. This bloody soldiering: how he hated it. Heat, dust, physical weariness, the sheer length of time an action took. If you wanted to move from here to there you walked - marched, rather. If it rained you marched through mud. Then, as night came on, you pitched camp in more mud and at daybreak put on your wet clothes and marched again. You could and often did get soaking wet at sea, but once you came off watch you could sleep in the dry and put on dry clothes.

Five minutes. A faint and passing smell of burning. Jackson had noticed it and glanced round him from behind his little cairn of rocks, watching for telltale smoke. Ramage peered round his own cairn and searched the hillside. No movement, and the hillside looked so peaceful one half expected to see a few goats walking delicately among the stones and bushes, standing up on their back legs to wrench at the higher leaves of bushes.