Ramage had asked the gunner what he thought that meant and, getting an evasive answer, had asked Aitken to give his opinion as the ship's first lieutenant. The Scotsman, who detested the gunner, said flatly: 'It means he is to stand and observe the notches. "Observe" means "to keep a watch on", the dictionary tells us that, so obviously the gunner must stand and watch the notches on all the guns every day during the hours of daylight.'

By now the gunner was becoming very nervous, his fear of authority overcoming his meanness with the Board of Ordnance's powder and shot, and before dismissing him Ramage said: 'You will report to the first lieutenant every Monday, in the forenoon, with a copy of your Instructions, and he will check with you that you have done your duty the preceding week. In the meantime every man in this ship, watchkeeper, idler or waister, must be proficient with a musket. That is one of your responsibilities.'

Ramage cursed to himself for wasting his time now thinking black thoughts about the gunner, and concentrated on Southwick's chart. The Calypso still had her six boats, a dozen Marines under a corporal, and plenty of seamen. All she lacked, Ramage thought crossly, were commission and petty officers.

Eight merchant ships left, and about a hundred men in them who had to be captured and dumped on shore to follow their fellow countrymen along the dusty road to Cagliari. Should he wait for nightfall, in case one of the ships became suspicious? He almost laughed aloud at the idea: the Calypso could sail through the anchorage sinking a ship with each broadside; likewise any two of her boats with boarding parties could seize a ship. The whole need for secrecy was now gone because, as he looked westward, the Sarazine was leading her convoy out to sea: six fine and undamaged prizes taken without the expenditure of a single musket shot or a human life - unless one counted the Algerines.

No, two boats could go to each ship and remove the crew. If they went to a ship at one side of the anchorage first, and after the French seamen were landed went to a vessel at the opposite side of the gulf, the chances were that no one would notice anything and the task could be accomplished quickly.

Ramage wrote a number against each of the ships on Southwick's chart.

'Jackson, six Marines and six seamen as boarders and eight men to row the gig; Stafford, the corporal and the other six Marines, six seamen and eight to row the launch...'

He thought a moment, and then added: 'We'll have eighty men standing by, armed: they can go off in the cutters, pinnace and jolly boat, if there's an emergency.'

'Don't forget our men in the Passe Partout, sir.'

'No, we're keeping her as our tender. She's one of the few in the convoy that could keep up with us going to windward!'

'Pity we couldn't have kept young Orsini in command of her.'

'I thought about that, but he'll learn a great deal more by going to Gibraltar.'

Southwick stumped from one side of the quarterdeck to the other, after putting his telescope on the chart to hold it down, and then said bitterly: 'It's enough to make a saintly man swear.'

He was talking to himself but a curious Ramage asked: 'Has your rheumatism started again?'

'No, sir, it's just painful to look at eight prizes without being able to do anything about them.'

'Well, our lads will only be losing the value of the hulls; most of them are laden with powder and shot. If they weren't bound for so many different ports, I'd think the French are planning a new campaign somewhere, but they're obviously just re-equipping garrisons.'

'Aye, but it's a pity the Admiralty pay so poorly for French powder.'

'Be fair! It's such poor quality you remember we changed it when we captured the Calypso.'

'Oh, I know all that, sir', Southwick said. 'And it's not the money either - thanks to you most of us have plenty of prize money in the Funds now. It just seems a waste of ships.'

'You would have sunk them all if you'd found the convoy at sea', Ramage pointed out, 'and been very pleased with yourself.'

'I suppose so, but we didn't find them at sea', Southwick said morosely, 'we sent for them, using the Frogs' own semaphore!'

By nightfall Ramage was bored. Perhaps bored was the wrong word, because he was rarely bored. Unsettled would be more accurate, the jumpy feeling which always came when he had to stay on board while some of his men went off to meet the enemy. This time it really was 'meeting', almost a social occasion, because with the Frenchmen from seven of the ships already taken on shore, there had been no shooting.

The moon would be rising in the next ten minutes; already the sky to the eastward had a golden tinge. Ah, there were the boats leaving the fifth ship and heading for the shore.

'We've been lucky with the weather', Southwick said as the two men stood at the quarterdeck rail. 'With anything of a wind or sea, it'd take all night to get those men ashore. I wonder if the first of them have reached Cagliari yet.'

'Not unless they ran all the way: it must be sixty miles or more, whether they go south round the coast or north to Iglésias and then across to Cagliari. They'll keep to the tracks; I can't see any of them climbing rows and rows of hills.'

The boats were leaving the beach and at this distance, now the moon was over the hills and lighting the gulf, they looked like water beetles as they headed for the sixth ship, anchored close to Sant' Antioco. Ramage glanced over towards her and as he did so his eye caught sight of a dark patch to seaward.

Was it Isolotto la Vacca, the little rock just south of Sant' Antioco? No, he could see that, and this patch was small and much farther out to sea. A ship - perhaps one of Aitken's convoy returning?

'There's something out there, just south of Vacca', Ramage said to Southwick as he hurried aft to the binnacle box drawer to get the nightglass. He was back in a moment and resting his elbows on the capping of the rail to steady the glass.

'It's a ship...'

'What's her course, sir?'

'I think she's heading for the gulf... Blast this glass; it's hard to work out everything upside down ... Yes, she's on the starboard tack, the moon is lighting up her sails well. Not much wind out there... Yes, I have the line of her masts now ... she's probably heading for Cala Piombo. That's about twelve miles from here at the south end of the gulf, isn't it?'

'Yes', Southwick said. 'An easy anchorage to make for on a moonlit night 'cos you can pick up that tower.'

Ramage concentrated for another minute or two, knowing it was very easy to make mistakes with the nightglass because, apart from showing ships upside-down, it also made them appear to be on the opposite tack.

'Our lads will have a long row down there with boats', Southwick said. 'Still, if she sights us all anchored this end of the gulf, perhaps she'll change her mind and join us.'

'That might be a mixed blessing', Ramage said grimly. 'She's a French ship of the line.'