Admiral Rudd was formal: he did not smile, nor did he shake hands. He waved Ramage to a chair in front of his desk and, in an expressionless voice, said: "Well?"

The sparseness of the greeting startled Ramage, who said lamely: "I've just returned from Sicily, sir."

"I imagined so," Rudd said. "You carried out your orders?"

"Yes, sir: I have my despatch here."

Ramage took out the report and put in front of Rudd.

"There are no Saracens left along the coast?"

"None, sir. Of course, there's nothing to stop more coming, but I dealt with those attacking the ports."

"What do you mean 'dealt with'?"

Ramage tapped his despatch. "It's all in here, sir. They're all dead."

"How many were killed? Twenty, fifty?"

"About four hundred, sir," Ramage said soberly.

"Four hundred?" Rudd exclaimed incredulously. "But your whole ship's company isn't much more than a couple of hundred!"

"No, sir," Ramage agreed, "but we managed to turn our carronades on them."

"What! They attacked your ship?"

"No, sir," Ramage said patiently, "as I describe in my report, we landed men and guns at the port of Licata and waited for the Saracens to attack, using the carronades to make up for our lack of numbers."

Rudd stared at Ramage, as though disbelieving him, and reached out for the despatch. He opened it and smoothed out the first page. He skimmed the formal opening and then adjusted his spectacles and started reading closely. From time to time he grunted, a noncommittal noise that gave away nothing. Finally, after he had read the four pages, he put them down on the desk again. His attitude had changed.

"Very creditable, Ramage; very creditable indeed. The British Minister will be delighted. I am sure he will arrange for a translation of your despatch to be given to the King."

"I am honoured, sir," Ramage said, trying to keep the irony out of his voice.

"Tell me, what made you decide Licata was going to be the next place they attacked?" ., "They seemed to be working their way along the coast, starting with Marsala. It was a question of getting ahead of them and waiting."

"What made you land carronades?"

"It was the only way I could make up for being so outnumbered, sir."

"But how did you know how many Saracens to expect?"

"The other ports that had been raided told me how many craft they had - tartanes, galleys and the like, and I guessed how many men they could carry."

"And how are you so certain there were four hundred?"

"I made a rough count when they landed on the quay at Licata."

"Very well," Rudd grunted. "And you say -" he tapped the report,'- that you brought in two prizes."

"They haven't arrived yet, sir. As I wrote, they are galleys and of course we have no one to man the oars. Each needs at least forty men, and I felt I could not spare eighty men - plus topmen to handle the sails - to bring them in."

Again Rudd gave a noncommittal grunt, obviously trying to put a price on the galleys and failing, since he had not seen them. "When do you think they'll get here?"

"Tomorrow or the day after at the latest, sir. They sail like haystacks but they've had a fair wind."

"Very well, that just about covers everything," Rudd said, picking up the despatch again and giving Ramage a dismissive nod.

As Ramage was rowed back to the Calypso he went over the interview again. Rudd had been cold and distant to begin with, thawing a little when he discovered that Ramage had rooted out the Saracens. When he learned, in other words, that he had something very positive to report to the British Minister, something that would put him in a good light and bring the King's thanks. Reflected glory, Ramage thought wryly. The Admiral must be very unsure of himself to get any satisfaction out of that ...

The two galleys arrived late that night, with the last of the light, and both Hill and Orsini arrived on board the Calypso to report that their commands sailed like reluctant mules. "We needed a hundred Saraceni at the oars to get them moving," Orsini grumbled. "And they carry so much weather helm that it would have been easier to sail them in circles."

"Don't be so critical of a real command," Ramage said teasingiy.

"It wasn't a real command, sir; I had to keep station on Mr Hill," Orsini said.

"Well, navigation wasn't very difficult: you kept the land on your larboard hand until you saw more appear to starboard, and then you. followed that keeping it to starboard until you sighted Vesuvius!"

"It's true it was not much of a challenge. Still, a galley sails so badly I'm thankful I did not have to beat to windward all the way to Gibraltar!"

Hill took a more practical view. "They won't sail and no one has enough men to row them, so perhaps the Admiral can sell them to the Neapolitans as houseboats. Rig tarpaulins over the catwalks and you can sleep scores. Better than the hovels many of them live in now."

"I'll suggest it to the Admiral," Ramage said jokingly. "I'm sure he will be grateful."

The following afternoon the flagship hoisted the Calypso's pendant numbers with the signal for captain, and once again Ramage dressed in his second-best uniform to go across to the flagship. He was puzzled by the signal. The Admiral had his despatch, and seemed satisfied with it: certainly he had not asked any questions indicating any doubts about it. He shrugged his shoulders: perhaps it was not trouble but new orders, some fresh task for the Calypso. There was one other frigate in the anchorage, but she was probably commanded by one of the Admiral's favourites; someone not to be burdened with run-of-the-mill commissions. Not that chasing Saracens was run-of-the-mill, but Ramage knew he had been given the job because it was assumed he would fail. And that was why Admiral Rudd had been distant and chilly yesterday: he had been anticipating the first of a string of excuses, and instead of that he had heard of complete success. What thoughts had gone through the Admiral's mind - anger, irritation, frustration?

This time, when Ramage entered the cabin after replying to the salute from the Marine sentry, the Admiral was affable, waving Ramage to the same chair with something approaching joviality.

"Your despatch," he began. "I had a copy made and I took it to the Minister myself. He was delighted: absolutely delighted. He took it along to the royal Court - after having it translated - and the King read it in his presence. You are probably going to receive some honour or other, as a token of the King's appreciation. You are collecting trophies - I see you have a sword from Lloyd's.

"The King's immediate reaction, Ramage, concerned the galleys: he was very affected by your release of the men in the galleys and wanted to know if they represented all the prisoners taken from the ports. The Minister was unable to reassure him on that point. Do they?"

"No, sir. There are five or six hundred more still at the Saracens' base, serving in other galleys. At least, so I understood from the men we freed. And all the women, of course. A hundred and fifty or more."

"Ah, yes, the women. His Majesty was equally concerned about them. They have suffered a dreadful fate."

Ramage nodded in agreement: it was sufficiently dreadful that he had shut his mind to it, being helpless to do anything about it. Some of the men released from the galleys had wept when they told him that their wives were among those women taken off; wives (and sweethearts) they would never see again.

"Do you know where the Saracen base is? I mean, the base of the particular Saracens concerned in these latest raids."

"Yes, sir. It's at Sidi Rezegh, south of Sfax. I discovered that from the men we freed from the galleys. It's a port of about ten thousand people. About six months ago the plague broke out there. It was a terrible attack - it wiped out all the slaves and the women kept in the brothel. They estimate a thousand or more Saracens died. It was because they lost all their slaves that the Saracens started raiding the Sicilian coast with tartanes - they wanted to get a large number as soon as possible to man the galleys.