'While we were in Antigua you heard about the increasing privateer activity, and bow they are snapping up merchant ships sailing to or from Jamaica,' Ramage said. 'Well, it's worse than we thought and, more important, the frigates patrolling the coasts of Puerto Rico, Hispaniola and Cuba are all reporting fewer French, Spanish and Dutch privateers at the big ports.'

Southwick ran his hand through his hair and growled: They need to keep a sharper lookout.'

'Or look elsewhere for them,' Ramage said quietly, and everyone glanced up, realizing that those five words were not a chance remark but a clue.

The Main,' Southwick speculated. 'Shallow water, dozens of likely bays lined with mangrove swamps - and swarming with mosquitoes, of course. Maracaibo, the Gulf of Venezuela, Riotacha, Santa Marta, Baranquilla, all the way round to Portobelo . . . Most of 'em too shallow for us, but not for the privateers, or for the Creole ...' Ramage nodded and turned towards Rennick. There's going to be plenty of boatwork for us, backing up the Creole. I shall want those Marines of yours getting in and out of boats as though they were born under the thwarts. And your men, Lacey. When a privateer escapes into water too shallow for La Creole, then you send boats in, and ours will follow when possible. I want you to exercise your men in hoisting out boats, rowing with muffled oars, using a compass in the dark.

handling a boat gun, carrying pistols without them going off accidentally . . . And don't anyone expect we shall be doing this only in calm weather. You know the Trades blow half a gale out of a dear blue sky, with lumpy sea . . .'

'Which end of the Main do we start, sir?' Aitken asked.

It was a good question because the coast ran east and west, and the Trade winds Mew regularly from east to west Beginning at the eastern end meant that the Calypso and La Creole started up to windward, in effect starting at the top of the hill, and with luck would be able to chase the privateers to leeward, like wolves pursuing sheep downhill across a meadow, providing they did not make a bolt sideways for the shelter of the bays.

'We start well to windward of Maracaibo," Ramage said. "With the Dutch islands, in fact, because the Admiral has been told that the privateers are using Curacao as a main base.'

'Could be, could be,' Southwick muttered, half to himself. The capital, Amsterdam, is a secure anchorage with a narrow entrance easy to defend, plenty of warehouses to store the loot, and well placed to intercept our merchant ships. Good market for prize ships and prize goods - those damned Hollanders are good businessmen, and wealthy, too. And a good rendezvous for all enemy privateers - the French from Guadeloupe, Martinique and Hispaniola, the Spanish from the Main only a few miles away, and from Puerto Rico and Hispaniola to the north. And of course the Dutch.'

Wagstaffe said diffidently: There's an advantage there for us, too: Jamaica is to leeward, so our prize crews will have a soldier's wind sailing back to Port Royal.'

Southwick sniffed yet again, and Ramage guessed what was coming: 'And every boarding party we send away with a prize well never see again: none of the King's ships in Port Royal will be coming to Curacao; they'll just press our men. Well end up with only fifty men left, having supplied the ships in Port Royal with two hundred well - trained men . . .'

It was a problem Ramage had already considered but put off any decision because that would only arise when they actually captured prizes, and remembering the sandbanks and cays and coral reefs littering the coast, he felt it unlikely to make him lose sleep.

He unrolled the chart on the top of his desk and weighted it down to stop it curling up again. 'Gather round,' he said, 'I want you all to refresh your memories of this coast How we carry out my instructions - which are simply to get rid of the privateers, and yours, Lacey, will put you under my orders - will depend on what we find among the islands.'

He jabbed a finger down at the lower half of the chart. There you have the island of Curacao, the middle of the three lying just off the Main. There's Bonaire to one side and Aruba the other, but Curacao is the only one that matters. Notice how Curacao is like the centre of a clock - the islands Of St Lucia and Martinique at three o'clock, Guadeloupe, Antigua, St Barts and St Kitts at one o'clock, Puerto Rico and Hispaniola at noon, and Jamaica here way over to the north - west at ten o'clock. And the Main to the south. All British merchant ships sailing between Jamaica to the west and the Windward and Leeward Islands to the east, have to cross these lines radiating from Curacao . . .'

He took a pair of dividers from the rack and opened them up until they measured seven degrees, equal to 420 miles, against the latitude scale. Then he put one point on Curacao and slowly swept the second leg across the chart until the other point finally rested on Grenada, the island at the southern end of the chain. 'You see, only 420 miles to Grenada and the rest of them, Martinique, Antigua, Nevis, St Kitts, no more than 500 miles because of the way they curve round. Puerto Rico, most of Hispaniola - all inside the 420 miles.'

He shut the dividers with a snap. 'Our merchant ships, whether sailing alone or in convoy, are passing east or west no more than four hundred miles north of Curacao. Four hundred miles - that's probably no more than three days' saying for the dullest sailor. Sail on Sunday morning, find a prize on Wednesday, and be back in Curacao unloading the prize by Saturday night. A prize a week at least, and no reason why one privateer should not take three prizes in a day. A hundred men on board to provide boarding parties and prize crews . . . All on a shares - of - the - spoils basis.'

'Aye,' Southwick rumbled, 'making bigger profits than commanders - in - chief.'

Taking more risks, too,' Wagstaffe said, and then glanced nervously at Ramage, who began taking the weights off the chart.

'Lacey - you have a copy of this chart? In fact you'd better go through our chart outfit with Southwick, so you can make copies of anything you don't have. And the French signal book - you have a copy? The one we captured at Martinique, I mean.'

'No, I don't have a copy, sir.'

Ramage turned to Kenton. 'You can help Lacey by making a copy. And Lacey, you treat it like our own signal book: always locked up when not being used, and always in the weighted bag ready to be thrown over the side . . .' He took out his watch. 'Sunset in five hours. Very well, we weigh in three hours - get busy with pencils and paper, gentlemen.'

The kneeling seaman carefully removed his plaited straw hat and took a soggy, stringy piece of tobacco from the lining, but before he put it in his mouth and began chewing he commented: 'My jaws are getting tired of overhauling this piece: it's the second day, and there ain't much taste left You 'aven't got the lend of a piece, 'ave you, Jacko?' 'Since when have I ever chewed bacca?' 'I know, but you might've 'ad a bit tucked away.' 'Oh yes, as a charm against rheumatism and snake bites.' 'Oh, you're a Yankee misery. Now, 'old the doth still. Cor, the sun's bright You ready with those scissors, Rossi? Wait, let me flatten out that crease. Now, snip away!'

The three men were crouching down on deck, cutting out the pattern of a pair of trousers drawn on a piece of white duck. Alberto Rossi, the Italian seaman from Genoa, snipped carefully, the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips revealing his concentration.

The man in the straw hat Stafford, was a young Cockney for whom the trousers were intended, and who scorned 'slops', the clothing sold by the purser, all of it made to standard patterns. One of the more crushing judgements mat a self - respecting seaman could make of another man was: 'He's the sort o' feller who'd wear pusser's trousers.'