"Supposing the French put Hill and the rest of our men right aft, sir?" Southwick asked.

"I'm assuming they will," Ramage said bitterly, "in which case they'll be killed - if we have to open fire."

Southwick nodded reluctantly, because he liked Hill. "I suppose we have no choice."

"None that I can think of," Ramage said.

By now the foretopsail was drawing and she began to wear round to pass across Le Tigre's stern.

"Pass the word to the guns that they are not to fire the first time we cross Le Tigre's stern," Ramage told Aitken. "But we shall tack and pass back, if necessary, and they will open fire with the starboard broadside."

"Pass just close enough to keep our yards clear," Ramage said to Southwick.

As the Calypso turned, Ramage watched the group of Frenchmen by the entryport. The jolly-boat had been up to the ship and, now that Orsini had delivered his warning, was rowing clear, followed by the cutters. Ramage could imagine the debate among the French: they could now see the English frigate, with guns run out, manoeuvring to deliver another of her raking broadsides which had already killed so many Frenchmen. Would the fat spokesman (ringleader, most likely) now realize that he had just signed the death warrants for another score or so of his shipmates?

The Calypso slowly turned as though to bring her larboard broadside to bear as she passed across Le Tigre's stern, and Ramage watched the French ship closely. He had decided to make one false run to give the French time to find a white flag: they would have to make one up from an old sheet, or even hoist up a square of canvas, though the colour would be far from white.

Then, as Ramage's telescope swept Le Tigre's stern, he saw running men waving shirts. Then the Tricolour was hoisted a few feet and then hauled down again. There was no mistaking the movement.

"They're surrendering again," Southwick said with a contemptuous sniff. "They can't find a white flag!"

"Keep going," Ramage said. "It won't do 'em any harm to think they're going to be raked again."

The Calypso passed close under Le Tigre's stern without firing and then wore round to pass back again and returned to her original position, where she hove-to.

Almost immediately Orsini was alongside with the jolly-boat and coming on board for orders.

"Bring that spokesman over here, and then carry on with the cutters taking men ashore," Ramage said. "But I want to talk to the fat man."

Orsini said: "I thought you were going to rake her, sir: it looked very frightening from the jolly-boat."

"It had to look frightening for the bluff to work," Ramage said.

"You mean you would not have fired, sir?" Orsini asked.

"That fat man thought so, and that's all that matters," Ramage said.

"I thought you would, too," Orsini said with a shiver. "I thought I'd seen the last of Mr Hill."

"I expect Mr Hill thought he had seen the last of us, too," Ramage said grimly.

Orsini went back to the jolly-boat and ferried the fat man before resuming escorting the cutters. Ramage could see the crowd of Frenchmen assembled on the beach growing larger and larger.

The fat man was made to stand at the gangway with two Marines behind him. He was, Ramage thought, one of the most repulsive men he had ever seen. The fat on his stomach made him look like an inflated bladder; the fat on his face hung down like the jowls of a bloodhound. The man was greasy and unshaven. But even as he stood in front of the two Marines he was wringing his hands, like an apologetic innkeeper. He said nothing but his hands kept on moving. Clearly, Ramage realized, the man expected to be shot and thrown over the side. Well, there was no reason to let him think differently - for a while, anyway.

"Well," Ramage said coldly in French, "your commanding officer had surrendered the ship, hadn't he?"

"Yes, M'sieur." "And that included you?"

"Yes, M'sieur." "Then why did you make my men hostages and tell the boat to keep off?"

"I don't know, M'sieur," the man said miserably.

"Don't be stupid: you persuaded the rest of your ship's company to follow you."

"Oh no!" the man exclaimed. "No, they didn't. At least, a few did but the rest said it was suicide. Why - they ran aft and surrendered the ship again just as you were going to open fire!"

"Oh, so it wasn't you surrendering?"

"No, sir," the man said, perspiring freely and wiping his forehead with his hand. "No, not me."

"Why not? Didn't you agree with them surrendering?"

"I was too scared," the man admitted. "I thought you were going to rake us again - and I was afraid of being killed."

Well, Ramage thought, at least you are an honest man. He turned and told Aitken in English to pass the word to Rennick to have a file of half a dozen Marines line up on the gangway facing the fat man.

It took several minutes and during that time Ramage did not speak a word. The fat man, eyes bulging, watched every move round him. Finally the file of Marines were ready and Sergeant Ferris saluted Ramage smartly. "The men you requested all fallen in and ready, sir."

"Very well, sergeant," Ramage said formally, returning the salute.

By now there was almost complete silence on deck: seamen had stopped and were watching the fat man; Aitken and Southwick stood to one side of Ramage and Sergeant Ferris stood beside the Marines.

Ramage turned again to the Frenchman, who was perspiring so heavily he looked as though he was melting.

"What you were doing," Ramage said deliberately, "was fomenting a mutiny. Your captain - the lieutenant who had taken over command - had surrendered. In other words he had given you orders to cease fighting. But later you - whoever you are - gave new orders to the men: you told them to drive off the English, to whom your new captain had surrendered.

"Death!" Ramage suddenly thundered at the man, who immediately fainted in an untidy heap.

The two Marines behind him put their muskets down on the deck and dragged him to his feet, letting go of him as soon as he could stand unaided.

Ramage said: "Death! That is what I could order, and there -" he pointed to the Marines, "- are the men of a firing squad. Yes, death is what I could order for you. And I may yet. For the time being you will be taken below and put in irons."

As soon as the man had been taken away, Southwick said: "I thought you meant it! It would have been the first firing squad you've ever assembled."

"The fat man thought I meant it, too," Ramage said. "I've never seen anyone faint like that before!"

Ramage waited until the two cutters had finished ferrying the prisoners ashore and as soon as they turned back towards the Calypso with the jolly-boat he said: "Pass the word for the carpenter, Mr Southwick: we'll go over and inspect Le Tigre. I want to see what repairs have to be done to make her seaworthy."

The three men went across in the jolly-boat to find Hill ready to greet them.

"I expect I gave you a few minutes of worry," Ramage said to Hill. The third lieutenant grinned.

"You did, sir: I had a feeling that you were serious."

"I was," Ramage admitted, "but I thought the Frenchman's nerve would fail first."

Ramage led the way below. Aft the captain's day cabin, dining cabin and bed place were no longer recognizable: the bulkheads had been smashed in along with the sternlights: there was no sign that windows had ever been fitted in the transom. The grapeshot, after smashing in the cabins, had swept forward to pepper the mizenmast and rip at the carriages of the aftermost guns.

On deck the mainyard had been hit by three shot which had, fortunately, not split the spar. The original damage which had caused the French to lower the spar down on to the deck comprised a long shake, or split, in the middle which the French had already begun to fish by fixing battens round it, like long splints.