He did not add that the men were worn out, but Ramage said: "Very well, let's call it a night. We'll ferry all the men ashore tomorrow after they've had a good night's sleep, and then you can hoist in the boats and disappear to the eastward."

"Don't forget to take that white ensign with you, sir," Aitken said. "We shall be watching out for that!"

"You'll be no more anxious than I will to hoist it!"

Ramage thought awhile and then said: "I must emphasize that you should not approach before the late afternoon, and then come in perpendicular to the coast, so that you are in sight for the shortest time possible."

"You're expecting the attack to be in the morning, sir?"

"Yes, probably soon after dawn. The Saracens won't have any difficulty identifying the place, thanks to Castel San Angelo and the church. They'll probably expect to catch the people while they're still in their beds."

"And you'll be up in the castle?"

"Yes, me, Orsini and half a dozen seamen who will act as messengers as soon as we sight anything."

"Supposing they come at night, sir?"

"Well, the carronades will be sited already and the messengers can raise the alarm. I'd prefer it in daylight, so that we can see who we're shooting at, but a night attack isn't impossible to deal with."

Jackson and his gun's crew shovelled and cursed as they cleaned out the stable. The carronade stood in the road outside the door because Lieutenant Kenton had agreed that apart from the dangers of the gun capsizing itself as it recoiled over so much straw, the stench was appalling, a dreadful mixture of donkey manure and urine which had collected over the years. Ramage, thinking of the practical effect of keeping men shut up in houses and stables for days on end, had finally arranged with the mayor that the town should go about its ordinary business - which meant that the seamen and Marines were allowed out in the street -until the bells of the church, also called San Angelo, should start tolling. Because Ramage knew that ringing church bells was a skilled job, he sent two seamen - whom he would have with him in the castle as messengers - with the mayor to find one of the bellringers and to get instructions how to toll the bells of San Angelo. The mayor assured him that the tolling of San Angelo could be heard ail over the port; they were loud enough to wake sleeping people, if the Saraceni should be sighted at night. The mayor agreed to warn all the people, and to tell the priest.

Jackson and his men were hot and tired and far from pleased at the sort of work. "I'm a sailor, not a farm labourer," grumbled Stafford. "These damned people have never cleaned this stable out since it was built."

"And it was built on a manure heap to start with," Gilbert said.

Finally Jackson agreed that the stable was clean enough to move in the carronade. The gun just fitted; they managed to haul it in through the doorway with only a few inches to spare, so that the muzzle protruded as though through a gunport.

As soon as the gun was in the stable Jackson set them to work hammering a hole in the wall on each side of the door into which would be fixed big eyebolts to fit the thick rope, the breeching, which would hold the carronade when it recoiled. The noise of the hammering and the dust soon upset Rossi.

"Staff is not a farm labourer, I am not a stone mason. And this noise; it is driving me mad."

"Don't worry, Rosey, no one will notice," Stafford said. "Dung spreading and stone work is all part of chasing Saracens. Very strange people, Saracens; they only hide in manure heaps and behind piles of rocks."

Finally the carronade was ready to be trained left or right. Jackson settled himself behind the gun and gave training and elevating instructions. When he was satisfied that it would sweep the killing ground the gun was loaded and laid and trained again. Now Stafford, as second captain, unwrapped the lock from the piece of cloth in which he kept it and checked the flint. As soon as he was satisfied that it was making a strong spark, he bolted the lock on to the gun, threaded the lanyard through the trigger and then coiled it up and placed the line on top of the breech.

"It's going to make a bang when we fire it in here," he observed. "I'm not sure my sensitive little ears will stand it."

"I shouldn't worry," Jackson said. "I've noticed how deaf you get when you don't want to hear something."

Stafford looked through the door across at the quay. "Where we're going to shoot, the Saracens will be a hundred yards or more from their ships."

"Exactly," Jackson said. "That's why Mr Ramage chose it. We want to kill them in a surprise attack, so that they don't have time to get back to their vessels. Take 'em by surprise: Mr Ramage says surprise doubles the number of your men and guns."

"I 'ope he's right," Stafford said miserably. "I don't want an 'undred or so of these Saracens whooping round me and trying to cut my head off with those skimitars of theirs."

"Scimitars," Jackson corrected automatically.

"I don't care what you call 'em," Stafford said sulkily. "I saw one once and it was big and 'orrible."

"Just think of them as overgrown cutlasses," Jackson said.

"S'no good," Stafford said. "I shall never think of them with 'ffection: those Saracens are wild men."

"No wilder than a panicky Frenchman fighting for his life," Jackson said reassuringly.

"We'll see," Stafford said gloomily.

"Well, let's get the powder stowed properly; at the moment the cartridges look as though they've been abandoned by a retreating army. And the caseshot: we want that in a handy pile here, just where the muzzle will be when the gun recoils."

"How many rounds do you reckon we'll be able to fire?" Gilbert asked.

Jackson looked at him quizzically. "Depends how long the Saracens wait there, and how fast you load! From here, though, we shall also be able to fire into their vessels as they lie alongside the quay. Perhaps a dozen rounds. Maybe more, if we're quick: after all, it doesn't take long to load a carronade."

"If those Saracens have any sense they'll run towards the guns to slice up the infidels," Stafford said. "Yelling 'orrible things and waving those skimitars. Is it true, Jacko, that if they get killed fighting they go straight to Paradise?"

"Where's Paradise?" Jackson said. "It's not Heaven because they're not Christians; they're just benighted heathens. They might think they're going to a special heathen Paradise, and good luck to 'em as long as they're dead. If they're in Paradise they're not bothering us," he added.

Up on the battlements of Castel San Angelo Ramage watched seaward as the Calypso sailed away south-eastward. In half an hour she would be out of sight. Ramage had to admit to himself that he felt nervous; never before had he been out of sight of the Calypso with someone else commanding her. It was not that he did not trust Aitken and Southwick; his feelings, he suspected, were more like those of a mother whose young son was away staying with an ancient and unreliable grandmother: there was a nervousness with no definable reason for it.

The castle was strongly built. The only thing it lacked, Ramage thought crossly, was guns. It had been built to protect the port, and it was well positioned. If only it had a few guns it would be able to rake the quay. He had considered landing some 12-pounders from the Calypso and hauling them up to the castle, but had finally decided that the carronades would be sufficient. The track up to the castle was so bad that it was hard climbing up it, let alone hauling up heavy guns with only manpower; Licata boasted only a few donkeys: it was too poor for horses.

But the view from the battlements was fine: it was a view he would like to share with Sarah. What was she doing at this moment? Either at the house at Aldington, enjoying the Kentish spring, or staying with her parents. He decided she would be at Aldington: they both loved the house they had inherited from his uncle, and it was reassuring to think that she would be well looked after by the staff there.