Neither Articles five nor six specified death - with a capital 'D' (it meant in fact that if a court found you guilty it had to sentence you to death). No, they laid down death or whatever punishment 'the nature or degree of the offence shall deserve'.

Five dealt with 'all spies, and all persons whatsoever' who came as spies 'to bring or deliver any seducing letters or messages from any Enemy or Rebel', or try to corrupt any captain or anyone in the Fleet 'to betray his Trust'. That could cover His Excellency and his aides.

Number six would catch Ramage if he so much as offered His Excellency a drink. He had already done that, he reflected grimly, and was not guilty because His Excellency had not accepted it. If he had accepted a rum punch, though, then Captain Ramage would have been guilty - 'No person in the Fleet shall relieve an Enemy or Rebel with Money, Victuals, Shot, Arms, Ammunition, or any other supplies whatsoever, directly or indirectly . . .'

The phrase 'directly or indirectly' took on a new meaning: at this moment the Calypso is coming bead to wind, foretopsail backed, and ready to drop an anchor. If she goes aground - indeed, if the whole thing is a trap - Captain Ramage will have provided the Governor of Curacao with all the items, and a few score tons of 'any other supplies'.

Like most laws passed by Parliament in its infinite wisdom, the Articles of War were a fine - meshed fishnet which caught without discrimination everything from sprats and sharks to waterlogged tree - trunks. And splash went the bower anchor, just where he wanted it, and the smell of burning drifted aft as friction scorched the hemp rope as it raced out of the hawse. Now the Calypso had sternway, pushed by the backed foretopsail, putting a strain on the cable and digging the anchor in. Later when the Governor and his aides had gone on shore, the springs would be put on the cable, and the Calypso's broadsides would be able to rake both sides of the town, if necessary.

The Dutchmen had been chattering to each other and Ramage cursed his lack of knowledge of the language. Van Someren turned to him: 'If I may borrow an English expression and "give credit where credit is due", I must congratulate you and your men: I have never seen anchoring so well done with a ship of this size, even by captains who have been in a hundred times. You have visited here before?'

Ramage grinned and shook his head. /None of us has. But perhaps you would repeat your kind remarks to my first lieutenant: you saw he was handling the ship.'

Van Someren nodded and Ramage called Aitken. It would do no harm to make the point to these Dutchmen that, in the Calypso anyway, the captain was not the only man who could handle the ship in a confined space. Aitken showed sufficient surprise at the Governor's congratulations that Ramage sensed that His Excellency had in mind that the junior lieutenant would probably be handling the ship when she left . . .

The Governor said to Ramage: 'I would like to go on shore now to prepare for our formal meeting. Then this evening perhaps you and your officers would have supper at Government House?'

He saw Ramage hesitating and added: 'I am sure our negotiations will be completed by then. And my wife and daughter will be glad to have new partners for dancing.'

Ramage thought of the daughter and agreed at once. Young Kenton, the junior lieutenant, was going to have to stay on board, unless Southwick decided to miss an evening on shore in favour of a few hours' peace and quiet on board.

An hour later Ramage and Aitken, in full uniform, were seated in what was obviously a small council chamber, with the Governor and Major Lausser sitting opposite them. The dark reddish - brown of the big rectangular table contrasted with the cool white of the stone walls and the black marble floor. Paolo had come on shore with Ramage and, as soon as they had all been introduced to the Governor's wife and daughter, the boy had been swept off by the women for a tour of the city.

The daughter was beautiful; as unexpectedly beautiful in such a dull island, Ramage thought, as a frangipani blossom. She had corn - coloured hair that glinted gold; blue eyes that betrayed a sense of humour; full lips that hinted at - well, they more than hinted. She was physically the opposite of Gianna: she was only a couple of inches shorter than Ramage, while Gianna was a fraction under five feet tall. She had full breasts while Gianna's were small and firm. If Gianna was the imperious little Latin, then Maria van Someren was the typical blonde Amazon, not large - limbed or heavy - featured but a young woman who could look a man straight in the eye without shyness or coyness. And, Ramage was sure, she had known immediately that the moment he had first met her in the drawing room, when she had been wearing a cool, long white dress in the French fashion, clinging and cut low in front, he had in his imagination seen her standing there naked, elegant and proud. She had given a slight curtsy as they were introduced, a curtsy when Ramage had imagined her breasts moving slightly, her nipples caressing the silk of her clothing.

'You agree. My Lord?'

Ramage, his lips kissing those nipples, suddenly found himself in the Council room and the three men waiting for him to answer. To answer what?

''I'm sorry,' he said heavily, 'I was thinking of something else.' Deep thoughts, his voice implied, weighing, for instance, the importance of Curacao against Antigua, or comparing Amsterdam with English Harbour. They would be large nipples. 'Would you repeat that question?'

The Governor's smile showed that he understood how important matters required careful consideration. 'I was asking if we should begin.'

'We are ready,' Ramage said, glancing at Aitken, who was going to take notes if necessary.

The Governor said: 'You are curious why I wish to surrender the island to you - to Britain, rather.'

'I have been trying to find out from the moment you first mentioned it, Your Excellency,' Ramage said dryly. 'It seems to be the point upon which all negotiations must pivot.'

'It is, it is. But I regret the surrender is not entirely straightforward.'

There is always a catch, Ramage thought sourly. Now come his terms: you can have my island wrapped up in Bruges lace on condition that you . . .

'Nor,' van Someren continued, 'is it very complex. If I may explain some of the background, you will understand at once why you have been seeing smoke at the western end of the island, and hearing occasional gunfire.

'First, you know the circumstances by which the French claimed the United Netherlands as an ally and that our Prince Sovereign had to flee and is now a refugee living in England. Anyone who disagreed with France or the Revolution was - ' he made a chopping gesture with his hand to imitate the guillotine.

Those of us in distant colonies at the time had to decide how best we could serve our country. We had three choices. We could become refugees and get to England or a British colony. We could withdraw from public life (and risk being arrested, accused of being traitors to the republican cause and then executed). Or we could appear to be prepared to serve the republican cause in the hope of safeguarding our own countrymen, because if we did not serve them the French would put in their own men.

'Rightly or wrongly I allowed myself to continue as Governor in this last category, and until recently I have been able to spare my people the worst excesses for which the Revolution in France has become famous - infamous, rather.'

He paused and poured water into a glass from a carafe in front of him. He drank and then continued. 'But recently - in the past few months - some of our wilder young men have come out violently in support of the French Revolution, or its revolutionary principles, rather. They gathered in the western end of the island, freed slaves, and began threatening to overthrow my government, which they claim is not truly revolutionary - although, ironically, it is approved by Paris.'