'Aye aye, sir. With this light wind it's going to be a long 330 miles.'

Ramage pointed at La Creole astern, her great fore and aft tails hardened in, spray flying up from her stem, the ship rising and falling on the swell waves with the easy grace of the flying fish which every now and then flashed up to skim the surface. 'Once she gets the wind on the beam you'll be hard put to hold her: she reaches like a bird, and these conditions suit her.'

'I know,' Southwick said ruefully, that's why I had the men overhauling the stunsails yesterday. Well look silly if die has to reduce sail for us to catch up.'

'If I was young Lacey I'd be making my plans,' Ramage said. 'I'd have my best quartermaster chosen, staysails overhauled, largest flying jib bent on ready - and then I'd wait for the Calypso's signal to alter course south, and I'd pass her before Captain Ramage had time to get another signal hoisted!"

Southwick was chuckling and rubbing his hands together.

'Reminds me of the time we were in the Kathleen cutter, sir. Pity we never had a schooner; then we'd know some o' the tricks.'

'If you haven't learned enough tricks in - what is it, forty years? - to beat young Lacey, who has been at sea perhaps eight years, and in command of the Creole for less than eight weeks, it's time you went back to England and cultivated cabbages. Forty rows of eight cabbages each.'

'She's French built, sir,' Southwick pointed out 'So is this ship,' Ramage teased.

'Let's have a trial of sailing to windward in a blow, or running with the wind free. That'd show the whippersnapper. But reaching - that's what schooners are built for.'

The trouble is the course is south, so the "whippersnapper" will probably show us,' Ramage said. 'And most of the privateers we chase will be schooners, too.' He looked towards the land again. Saona and Punta Espada were almost in line as the Calypso sailed along to the north - east, close - hauled on the starboard tack, as though straggling to stay up to windward and sail through the Mona Passage and into the Atlantic beyond.

'Well cheat a bit,' Ramage said. 'Seniority must have its privileges. Well go about now. That's an hour earlier than Lacey expects.'

Southwick gave an off - key sniff; one which neither acknowledged that he would have an advantage nor admitted that he needed it.

Ramage called to Wagstaffe, who was officer of the deck, and gave him his orders. A few moments later Orsini, the young midshipman, was busy with a seaman, bending signal flags to a halyard.

Southwick led the way to the binnacle and stared down at the compass card. 'We're heading nor - nor' east on this tack." He looked up at the luff of the main course and then at the dogvane. The wind's due east, so steering south we'll have the wind on the beam. If it'd pipe up a bit . . .'

By now Wagstaffe, speaking trumpet in his hand, was giving the first of the orders which would turn the frigate and bring the wind from the starboard side to the larboard. The men stitching and cutting or just lazing, enjoying their 'make and mend', moved themselves out of the way of the men on watch who, in a few moments, would be hauling on tacks and sheets and braces as the great yards swung over. The men at the wheel, one each side, watched the quartermaster who was standing to windward of them, alternately eyeing Wagstaffe and the luffs of the sails.

Ramage savoured the moment Tacking a well - designed frigate was a joy if properly done, the ship swinging (in this case) through fourteen points of the compass without losing way and then sailing in almost the opposite direction at the same speed. A joy to watch the men you've trained moving in apparent confusion, but every man following his own special track, as if the deck was marked out with separate but invisible paths. The sails slamming and napping, ropes squealing as they rendered through blocks - and then suddenly came peace and quiet as the last order was given with the sails trimmed on the new tack, and the quartermaster calling out the new course being steered. And the ship settled down to the ridge - and - furrow movement like the flight of a woodpecker. Some hours of peace before the next bout of war . . . the fascination of sea life, he realized, was its strange variety.

Wagstaffe glanced across at Ramage who, seeing all was ready, nodded and wondered wryly as he looked astern at La Creole whether post captains had played similar tricks on him when he was a nervous young lieutenant commanding the Kathleen cutter. Small and at the time inexplicable episodes now took on meaning; sudden alterations of course, sudden and odd orders hoisted by signal flags when the wind direction meant the flags streamed out end - on and indistinguishable - yes, other post captains had done it. Now, years later, he could admit they were quite right, too: it had kept him on his toes. Even today, when he could rely on his men and had no need personally to watch a horizon for a strange sail or keep an eye on a flagship in anticipation of a hoist of signal flags suddenly appearing, it was rare for anyone on deck to spot them before him. Lookouts up at the masthead would sight a distant ship first because their height of eye gave them a longer range, but . . .

His thoughts were interrupted as Wagstaffe snapped orders at the quartermaster, and the men began to spin the wheel. Tacking or wearing off a coastline always gave this curious effect that the ship was still heading in the same direction and it was the land that was sliding one way or the other. Now the whole coastline of Hispaniola seemed to be sliding to the west, as though someone was pulling a rumpled green baize doth across a table.

He still found it hard to leave an evolution entirely to the officer of the deck. He had enough self - control to keep his mourn shut, and thus give the impression of not interfering; of treating the whole evolution with lofty disdain as though merely tacking the ship was beneath the interest of the captain, apart from giving the initial order. Yes, he managed to keep his mouth shut, but sometimes it was difficult - like now, when the wind is out of the after sails and Wagstaffe is going to be several seconds late in ordering: 'Raise tacks and sheets!'

Then he saw that as Wagstaffe put the speaking trumpet to his mouth and bellowed the order the lieutenant's eyes were in fact on Southwick, who was glaring at him. Southwick knew it was late and now Wagstaffe knew, so why, Ramage asked himself, don't I just admire the view?

The canvas of the sails was flogging with a noise like great wet slaps. Wagstaffe was bellowing: 'Mainsail haul!' - and what the devil were Jackson and his crowd doing? They had suddenly begun pointing upwards after making sure he could see them.

Up aloft the lookouts at the foremast and mainmast were gesticulating wildly, their hails lost in the slamming of yards and flapping of sails. Quickly Ramage ran to the larboard side as the Calypso's bow swung. Is that a fleck on the horizon? Perhaps two? Specks that are the sun making light and shadow of the sails of one or more distant ships? He could not be sure.

Finally Wagstaffe gave the last order: 'Haul off all!' and with the quartermaster watching the compass and the luff of the mainsail and cursing the men at the wheel, Ramage heard the excited hails from aloft: 'Deck there!'

For a moment he nearly cupped his hands to reply, but Wagstaffe had the speaking trumpet and shouted aloft 'Mainmast - head,' came the faint shout 'One sail, probably two, fine on the larboard bow, sir!'

Wagstaffe glanced round and saw Orsini, who was waiting for the order to hoist La Creole's signal. 'Quick, boy, take the bring - 'em - near and get aloft. What ships and what courses are they steering!'

The young midshipman snatched the proffered telescope and raced to the main shrouds. Wagstaffe looked at Ramage, obviously worried about the signal, still bent on the halyard, a heap of coloured cloth, but a glance told Ramage that Lacey was already tacking La Creole without orders: he had probably seen the flags being bent on and saw Orsini suddenly scrambling aloft, and there was now only one order that mattered.