The wind was freshening, and a few small clouds were coming off the land. The Dido was rolling slightly and occasionally a startled gull flew by, screaming as though protesting at being disturbed. By now the moon had set and they had to rely on the starlight.

Now he could just distinguish the frigate with the naked eye: not a ship but a small dark blob on the southern horizon, dead ahead, and only visible to one side of the jibboom and bowsprit when the Dido yawed. Ramage waited for the group of lights hoisted in the frigate which would be the challenge - probably a pattern of three lights, lanterns hoisted on a triangular frame. But for the moment there was nothing; the two ships were approaching each other darkly and anonymously. Every minute, Ramage knew, was to his advantage: it increased the margin of surprise.

But time was passing quickly. The Dido was making five to six knots in this light breeze, so the two ships were approaching each other at a combined speed of ten to twelve knots. The frigate's bottom was probably foul - not probably but certainly - after the Atlantic crossing, encumbered with goose barnacles and weed, but no more than the Dido's, so the fouling just about evened out. Weed and barnacles wait for no man, he thought grimly, slowing up the best of ships, despite the copper sheathing on the bottom.

Southwick was still searching the southern horizon with the nightglass. 'The frigate and six ships so far,' he announced. 'I reckon all seven are merchantmen, but I can't be sure yet. It's a pity we haven't got a moon.'

Ramage looked again at the frigate and found he could now distinguish her outline. Still no challenge, still no sign - since she must have spotted them by now - that the frigate suspected she was anything but the Achille sailing down to help shepherd them all in to Fort Royal.

'They seem to be playing follow-my-leader,' Southwick reported. 'One following the frigate - she'll be burning a stern lantern - and the rest strung out astern. Like fruit on a bough, ready for plucking. The only trouble is they'll disperse the moment we start firing at the frigate.'

'They won't get very far,' Aitken said. 'The wind is too light to move these mules very far. And they're probably reefed down, too; you know what merchantmen are like at night.'

'We'll soon see,' Ramage said. 'We're approaching the frigate quite fast now. This breeze is slowly strengthening.'

'What I'd give for a bit o' moonlight,' repeated an exasperated Southwick. 'Trying to judge with the upside-down image in this glass makes my eyes go funny.'

'We'll attack the frigate to starboard, so we don't get blinded by our own smoke. Warn the guns, Mr Aitken.'

The first lieutenant sent one of the midshipmen below while he shouted up to Orsini on the poop.

Ramage saw the frigate dead ahead again as the Dido yawed slightly. By now Jackson had taken over as quartermaster, and Ramage gave him a helm order which brought the frigate round to fine on the starboard bow: on this new course they would pass her about fifty yards off. Just the right range for the gunners, Ramage thought, but far enough not to alarm the frigate if she was in fact still under the impression that the Achille was approaching.

He could imagine the clicking as the second captains cocked the locks on the guns: the captains would be standing behind them, firing lanyards held in their right hands, ready to drop on one knee as the frigate loomed up close. Well, they had some experience of a night action; he only hoped that what they had learned attacking the Achille was going to stand them in good stead tonight.

The range was closing fast now and, after another look at the frigate, Ramage told Aitken: 'Tell the gunners they'll be opening fire in about three minutes.'

Still no challenge from the frigate: well, that bit of carelessness on their part was going to cost them dearly: had they challenged, the lack of a correct reply would at least have warned them.

'Another merchantman rounding the island,' said Southwick. 'But maybe she's a frigate.'

'Eight ships,' mused Ramage. 'Quite a good-sized convoy, and there may be more escorts.'

Ramage gave another helm order to Jackson and the men at the wheel turned it a couple of spokes. The frigate was barely two hundred yards away and Ramage could see that she had everything set to the topgallants. Her rigging now stood out spidery against the stars; there was just a hint of phosphorescence at her stem as she butted her way through the water.

It seemed almost unsporting, Ramage told himself, to come out of the darkness and fire a broadside into the unsuspecting frigate; but this was war, and if one was careless the price was usually heavy.

Ramage moved a few steps on the quarterdeck so that he could see the frigate clear of the Dido's jibboom and bowsprit. A hundred yards. Fifty yards. Still the frigate ploughed on, obviously thinking that the seventy-four approaching on her starboard bow was the Achille. Twenty-five yards. A ship's length. Ramage imagined the Dido's gunners taking the strain on their trigger lines.

The crash of the first guns of the broadside came as a shock even though he was expecting it: a series of blinding flashes and muffled explosions and the rumble of the guns flinging back in recoil. Finally the last guns in the broadside thundered out as Orsini's carronades swept the frigate's decks, spraying them with a deadly hail of caseshot. Ramage thought of the unsuspecting Frenchmen standing about on the frigate's deck; then he reminded himself that if the position had been reversed the French would have shown no mercy.

There had been plenty of hits on the frigate: it was almost impossible to miss at this range, and he had imagined he had heard the shot crashing into the hull. Now, in response to his hurried order to Aitken, the Dido wore under the frigate's stern and prepared to come alongside, firing another broadside. The sails slatted and cracked, the yards creaked as they were braced round and the sheets trimmed. Ramage could hear Orsini's gunners shouting with excitement as they crossed the poop to man the larboard carronades.

For once Ramage felt remote from the action. Perhaps it was a bit too cold-blooded, perhaps there had been little excitement before opening fire, but there was something lacking. He found himself thinking of the frigate now about to receive another broadside when she had just had one smash into her. Well, he thought grimly, if it was a French seventy-four attacking the Calypso the French would not be feeling squeamish.

Once again the Dido's broadside crashed out, the flashes destroying his night vision but lighting up the frigate perfectly so that he could see every detail of her rigging and sails and observe that her hull was painted black with a wide red strake.

Suddenly amid the gunfire he could hear a French voice shouting through a speaking trumpet. He thought for a minute that it was hurling defiance, but as the last half of the broadside crashed out he realized that the man was surrendering. He called to Aitken to stop the guns firing and shouted a helm order to Jackson so that the wheel was put over and the Dido turned into the frigate, crashing alongside her.

At last the guns stopped firing as the two midshipmen sent below by the first lieutenant managed to pass the word to the officers at their quarters. Ramage himself shouted up to Orsini to stop the carronades firing again, but only made himself understood after several of them had gone off. By now the two ships were grinding against each other and Ramage told Aitken: 'Get the first boarding party over: tell Rennick to add ten Marines.'

Even with the extra Marines it was not a very large prize crew to take command of a captured frigate, but if the French tried any tricks, he thought grimly, the threat of another broadside would probably bring them to their senses.