"We'll lose the wind here," Southwick grumbled, shielding his eyes with his hand as he looked up in the bright sunshine at the jagged cliffs of the headland on the larboard side and then inspected the tower perched on the top, having to raise his telescope to an unusually high angle. "Another one of those towers . . . that's the ninth or tenth since we passed Punta Lividonia. All the same design."

"Spanish," Ramage commented absent-mindedly. "This one here on Punta Avoltore is the last before we reach Porto Ercole, isn't it? They should be able to see it. In the old days it would pass the word when a ship was sighted . . ."

Southwick snapped his telescope shut and walked over to the binnacle drawer, pulling out the chart and inspecting it. "Yes, it's the last one marked on this chart, sir. We should - ah!" Once more he shaded his eyes against the bright sun as he looked over the larboard bow. "There -" he pointed at a tiny island just beginning to show as the Calypso worked round the Point" -  that's Isolotto. We have plenty of water to within a few yards of the cliffs over here," he added, pointing to a long, shallow bay opening up between Punta Avoltore and Isolotto. "There's a narrow channel between Isolotto and the shore, but it has an isolated rock at the far end and it isn't worth the risk of using it because we can just as easily go outside the island."

Ramage nodded. He had already spent an hour going over the chart, reminding himself of a coast he had once known very well. Southwick took a bearing of the tower and looked at his watch before scribbling a note on the slate. "We're just fifteen minutes early, sir."

"Very good," Ramage said. "I assume you're keeping your fingers crossed that we don't lose the wind."

Southwick grinned as he took off his hat and shook his head, his flowing white hair streaming out. "We're just getting out of the wind shadow of the big mountains; it should freshen a little once we round this point. I was just afraid that we were in too close but 1 think the wind is also funnelling round both sides of the island and meeting here: we'll catch the other - ah, there!" The luffs of the topsails began to flap and the quartermaster gave a hurried order to the men at the wheel to bear away.

"See, it's veered a whole point. Still, we can lay Isolotto nicely."

Ramage picked up his telescope and examined the coast as it came into sight, the view taking him back to a land of memories. Cala dei Santi - that was the next inlet just beyond Punta Avoltore as the land began to trend round to Porto Ercole. Steep cliffs, vertically slashed grey rock, patches of soil here and there where bushes and a scattering of grass could grow, and higher up rounded hills with jagged cones of grey stone poking through. Brown, black and white specks moved slowly just above the cliffs - goats, some grazing, others jumping with surprisingly nimble grace from rock to rock and several walking sedately in line like parishioners going to Sunday matins. The water was a deep blue, white-fringed where it lapped at the cliffs. There were no beaches; it would be impossible to land from a boat even on a calm day. Apart from the towers, it seemed no one had disturbed this part of Argentario for a thousand years . . . Looked at from seaward, but never walked on.

The bay swept on until, above low cliffs, he could make out the angular shape of Fortino Stella, old now, looking as though it had been let go to ruin and not to be confused with the one at the harbour entrance. In the old days, he guessed, the Spaniards had built it there well outside the harbour to prevent any hostile ships anchoring in the lee of Isolotto to land men and attack Porto Ercole from the rear. Or perhaps the Spaniards used the channel between Isolotto and the shore as an anchorage, and the small fort protected it. He shrugged, because it was not often one came across a fortification whose purpose was not obvious, even putting the clock back two centuries and seeing the conditions and problems existing then.

Finally he reached the end of the land, as far as he could see and fine on the frigate's larboard bow. That distant point must be the little headland forming the south side of Porto Ercole, with the harbour beyond and out of sight. He could just make out a straight line of stonework - that was La Rocca, the village at the southern side, while there was another village, Grotte, in the north-western corner. At this distance there was no chance of seeing if there were gun barrels poking through embrasures in that wall - the Calypso would have to get a good deal closer.

Suddenly a fleck of white caught his eye, beyond and to the right of Isolotto, and a few moments later, as the Calypso's course opened up the view behind Isolotto, he saw another. Even as he watched they disappeared - for they were sails, now being furled, brailed up or lowered on board the bomb ketches, which were both now visible coming head to wind and at this distance seeming smaller than water beetles on the far side of a village pond.

Southwick had seen them and slapped his knee. "They're on time, too! Those two lads probably used this stretch here to waste a little time so they weren't too early."

Aitken came up to Ramage, squinting in the bright sunlight. "I can't get used to those colours, sir," he said, gesturing up at the Tricolour. Then, when he saw that Southwick and Ramage were watching the two bomb ketches anchoring, he grinned and took out his watch. "Two minutes early. Who knows, the four of them might become admirals yet!"

He then glanced questioningly at Ramage, who nodded. "Yes, general quarters, but leave the port lids down; don't forget we're a French frigate just paying a routine visit - probably to get fresh water. Our own colours are also bent on? Ah, I see you have them there already," he said as he saw a carefully folded bundle of coloured cloth secured to a halyard and made up to a cleat.

The bosun's mates went through the ship, their calls shrill as they shouted to the men to go to quarters, and Ramage was thankful he had a well-trained ship's company. Normally there was one lieutenant to each division of guns, and when the Calypso was fighting one side - half her guns - this meant three lieutenants and a midshipman to supervise eighteen guns. Now all the broadside guns would be handled only by their captains, who were chosen because they were steady able seamen. They were going to have to be careful that in the excitement a gun was not accidentally loaded with two charges of powder. This was the most frequent reason for a gun blowing up.

He could not spare Southwick to keep an eye on the guns - an impossible task for one man anyway - and Aitken would have to take over command of the ship at a moment's notice if a roundshot removed the Captain's head. Still, the three lieutenants and midshipman would be doing more than their share in the bomb ketches, and he was far from clear what the Calypso would have to do, if anything. Although the bomb ketches had set roles to play, the Calypso was little more than a terrier lurking round to see which way an escaping rat would bolt.

Southwick was again looking at his watch, at a sheet of paper which Ramage recognized as the timetable he had written out for the Calypso, and then picking up his quadrant and, holding it horizontally, looking over at Isolotto and adjusting the vernier screw. Then he examined the angle shown, the horizontal angle made by each end of Isolotto. Again he consulted a piece of paper and nodded to himself, obviously satisfied at the distance it revealed. Ramage managed to restrain himself from asking the old master if they would arrive on time; if they would not, then Southwick would be doing something about it - requesting topgallants to be set if they were late, asking for permission to clew up the maintopsail if they were too early.