He looked round to see if anyone had more questions, and Wagstaffe said: The privateers in Amsterdam, sir: are we leaving them alone?'

'For the time being, yes, although they won't realize it. Watchers along the coast will be reporting us going westward, but at twilight well turn back towards Amsterdam so that the Dutch lookouts report that we are doubling back.and obviously intend to spend the night off the port - just the sort of trick one would expect. But of course once it's dark well turn back yet again . . .'

'And hope it is not so dark we run ashore,' Aitken said dryly.

'Sint Christoffelberg is twelve hundred feet high,' Ramage said. 'We should be able to see it from five miles off, and Lacey here has only to keep an eye on our poop lantern.'

He stood up and said slowly: 'Remember, gentlemen, that timing is vital. If we see the fish isn't taking the bait, we have to act immediately, otherwise dozens of our men will be killed or wounded unnecessarily.'

By dawn Southwick and a dozen men had about half of the smallest of the Calypso's anchor cables, a ten - inch - circumference rope the thickness of a man's forearm, ranged on the foredeck after being led out through a hawsehole and back on board again, with a light messenger rope made up to the end. All her guns were loaded and run out, the decks had been wetted and sanded, and cutlasses, tomahawks, pistols and muskets had been issued. The Calypso was once again ready to greet the first light of day, the only difference being the cable lying on the fo'c'sle like a sleeping serpent Ramage, walking round the ship, could sense the men's excitement and he stopped here and there in the darkness to warn that they might have to wait two or three days for the Frenchman to appear. The men were delighted that the captain should stop and pass the time of day but were obviously ignoring his warning: they had made up their minds that the French frigate would show up today, that she would be reported in sight to leeward as soon as the lookouts went to the masthead at daybreak and had a good look round. One of the men had given it enough thought to realize that the Frenchman approaching from the west might see the Calypso against the lighter eastern sky and bolt, and he was relieved when Ramage assured him that in fact they would be hidden against the blackness of Sint Christoffelberg and the hills at the western end of Curacao for that first critical fifteen minutes of the day.

The special lookout posted aft and staring into the Calypso's wake continued to report every ten minutes or so that La Creole was still astern. Although it was a dark night there was plenty of phosphorescence, and every now and again a pale greenish swirl astern showed where the schooner was faithfully following and revealing herself occasionally as her bow sliced into a swell wave.

From his own experience in the past, Ramage knew that Lacey would have had little sleep, worried that his lookouts forward would lose sight of the Calypso's poop lantern. The young lieutenant, knowing how important it was that he should be only a few hundred yards from the Calypso at first light, was unlikely to have left the quarterdeck: he had probably spent the night in a canvas chair, boat cloak over his shoulders, occasionally dozing and frequently nagging whoever had the watch and interfering as only anxious captains know how. Yes, Ramage thought to himself, I know just how you feel ...

La Creole had to be close at daybreak, just in case: Ramage had been most emphatic about that. He personally did not think they would see the Frenchman at dawn whichever day she arrived, but there was always a chance that she sailed at the proper time and made a fast passage, which would bring her off Curacao at first light. No gambler would ever bet on a Frenchman being punctual, but the whole success of the operation depended on La Creole: be had made sure that Lacey really understood.

Ramage looked through a gun port He could just distinguish the toppling waves; they had a grey tinge, and the stars low on the eastern horizon were dimming slightly, Orion's Belt had crossed overhead and dipped, the Southern Cross and the Plough had revolved, Polaris had remained fixed, and the sun would soon be dazzling them all. Yes, Sint Christoffelberg was over there on the starboard beam so high that it was distinguishable as a black wedge pointing upwards and obscuring the stars low on the north - eastern horizon.

Somewhere in the darkness on deck three men waited, one at each mast, for the order sending the lookouts aloft - it would come from Wagstaffe this morning - and then each would race up the ratlines like a monkey, hoping to be the first to hail the deck that the French frigate was in sight. The competition, mast against mast, was traditional.

Ramage finished his walk forward along the starboard side and crossed over to make his way back to the quarterdeck along the larboard side. There was very little sea; the Calypso was hardly rolling, giving a gentle pitch from time to time, almost a curtsy, as a swell wave came along the side of the island, part of the movement westward that began off the western comer of Africa, crossed the Atlantic and Caribbean, and finally ended up) thousands of miles away, in the muddy shallows of the Gulf of Mexico.

Groups of men squatted round their guns. Usually they were half asleep, but this morning they were wide awake, occasional whispers and stifled laughter showing they were cheerful enough. Ramage never understood how men could laugh and joke when, within the hour, they could be dead, shattered by grapeshot or torn apart by roundshot. It was enough that they were cheerful.

Yet, he realized, they were cheerful because they were confident; they were confident that death would not touch them. And they were confident because - well, because so far, under his command, they had been lucky. All the actions of the last few months, including the original capture of the Calypso and La Creole from the French, had been fought with very few casualties.

Would there be a great change of heart among them if they fought a bloody action? Would they then be less martial?

He doubted it: most of them seemed like Southwick: as keen for battle as schoolboys for a game of marbles or poachers for fat pheasants. And as his heels thumped the deck and he balanced himself against the ship's roll, he knew he was slowly becoming a better captain. It had taken long enough, but now he had finally absorbed the apparent contradiction that the captain who worried too much about his men being killed in action was likely to kill them by the dozen because he would be too timid. The boldest plan was usually the safest He realized he had never consciously taken a ship into action with that thought uppermost, but looking back on a series of actions, the fact was that he had often escaped with only a dozen killed and wounded when a prudent man with an apparently safer (more cautious) plan might have lost four dozen.

Was he being arrogant? Perhaps, and if arrogance on his part led to confidence among his men and success to an operation, then perhaps arrogance was no great fault. And of course it was the men's arrogance (that any one of them was worth three Frenchmen) that gave them the boldness which led them to succeed. The casualty lists usually bore them out, and certainly the Admiralty seemed to assume that one of the King's ships with a hundred men should be able to board and capture a French national ship with three hundred.

'Lookouts there - away aloft!'

Wagstaffe's shouted order broke into Ramage's thoughts and he realized he had not noticed how much lighter it had become in the last few minutes, minutes when he had just stood at the gun port staring at the wavetops gliding past The men were getting up from the deck where they had been squatting or sitting, groaning as stretched muscles gave them a twinge, teasing each other, some shivering with the dawn chill and swinging their arms, others spitting tobacco juice over the side through the port Ramage climbed the quarterdeck ladder to find Wagstaffe waiting anxiously at the rail, speaking trumpet in one hand and night glass in the other, obviously awaiting the first hail from aloft, while Southwick stood at the binnacle talking to Aitken, who would take over from Wagstaffe if any enemy ships were in sight, leaving the second lieutenant free to go to his division of guns. The Marines were forming up with much stamping and thumping.