"Hah! Three out of three," Southwick exclaimed. "But Mr Orsini doesn't seem pleased. Is anything wrong? A lot of men killed?" The old master reminded him of everyone's favourite grandfather, always fussing over the grandchildren.

Ramage raised his eyebrows questioningly, and when Paolo shook his head he said: "Mr Orsini thinks the bomb ketches had a lien on the three frigates, and I believe he regards us as poachers over the Furet. You'd better tell him."

Southwick gave a great bellow of laughter and Ramage joined in when he saw the startled expressions on the faces of Paolo, Jackson, Stafford and Rossi.

"The Furet," Southwick explained, "can be shared between the bomb ketches - unless you know which one exploded a shell in her wake as she came out of Porto Ercole."

"Did that sink her, sir?" Jackson asked disbelievingly. "No. In fact we had a long chase after her - right down to here. But for a long time we just could not overhaul her enough to let go the broadsides. Then Mr Ramage noticed something - you remember both bomb ketches were sailing down by the bow as we came down to Argentario, and what he shouted to you to do?"

The four nodded their heads vigorously.

"Well, this was the first time that the Calypso has had a trial of sailing against a sister ship, and although she wasn't drawing ahead, we weren't overhauling. Leastways, not until Mr Ramage spotted that both of us - the Furet and the Calypso – were griping too much, even though we had stunsails set only on one side. He spotted why and cured it in the Calypso, with the result that we suddenly started overhauling the Furet.

"They tried to drive her faster - but although that mortar shell of yours hadn't done any damage that showed when she was driven hard, as soon as they tried extra hard - or it may have been a coincidence: I reckon it was - she sprung a plank or two, and the tremendous pressure of water just opened her up, like peeling a banana. She luffed up - we thought to engage us, of course - and we both got off a few broadsides, but she sank . . ."

By now Orsini was grinning, but Ramage suddenly remembered Gibraltar. Perhaps he could leave the bomb ketches to carry out his orders. Even stay with them and send Aitken in the Calypso to Gibraltar with a despatch. No, the Admiralty would not stand for that. He half heard something Paolo had said to Aitken.

"What was that about the frigate?"

"The one we towed out, sir: I was saying that she's hardly damaged."

"But there was wreckage hanging from her masts and yards when we passed - some of it seemed to be burning."

"Yes, sir, but once we had her anchored, we cleared most of that while we were getting the xebec ready."

"Do you mean to say this frigate - the one you towed out - is seaworthy?"

"Oh yes, sir: Mr Wagstaffe told me particularly to tell you he'd have her ready for sea by the time you returned to Porto Ercole. By noon tomorrow, anyway."

"Thank you," Ramage said sarcastically. "So far telling me about it had slipped your memory."

"Sorry, sir," the boy said. "Might we have a drink of water, sir? We had no time to get water or provisions before we sailed to try to catch you up."

Ramage nodded to Aitken.

"Get them fed - I have to go below to write a report to the commander-in-chief at Gibraltar. Tell Renwick to send a Marine to guard the French admiral and then you join me in my cabin. Orsini, what's the name of this other frigate?"

Ramage signed the despatch, found the ink was drying fast from the heat so that he did not need the sandshaker, and then looked up at Aitken. "Well, I'm sorry I've been able to give you only ten minutes, but have you made up your mind?"

The Scots first lieutenant nodded. "Aye, sir, and don't think I'm not grateful for the offer to command her, but if it's all the same, I'd sooner stay with you in the Calypso and perhaps you'd agree to Wagstaffe taking the other frigate, this Tortue, to Gibraltar. It might lead to him being made post."

"You'd definitely be made post," Ramage said. "I'm sure the admiral will buy her in and give you the command."

"Aye, sir, I know; but there'll be more chances for me later, but maybe not such a good one for Wagstaffe. And to be honest, sir, I'm enjoying this cruise; it seems - if you'll pardon the familiarity - to have the Ramage touch."

Ramage was startled to hear a phrase in English which he had heard in French not half an hour earlier from another man sitting in the same chair.

"Very, well, I appreciate it. You'd better warn Orsini and his scoundrels that they've got to beat us to Porto Ercole with this despatch. They can sail as soon as I've written orders for Wagstaffe. In this light wind that xebec will beat us there by hours . . ."

"Aye, sir, and if the lads know what the orders are then the Tortue will be out of sight over the western horizon long before we get there. Should Martin take over command of the Brutus, sir? Perhaps Orsini could have the Fructidor... we're very short of officers ..."

He was just getting up to leave the cabin when Ramage motioned him to stay. "Pass the word for Renwick to bring the French admiral and that other officer to this cabin."

While the first lieutenant gave the order, Ramage took the admiral's sword from the locker in which Silkin had stowed it, and gave the scabbard a wipe with the corner of a curtain.

Within a few minutes he would return the sword to Poitier. In fact, Ramage thought sourly, Poitier has not done much to deserve it, but it was very important that the French government had no hint that the British knew of Bonaparte's plans for Egypt, because cancelled plans could be brought into use again. The formal return of his surrendered sword, the warrior's age-old tribute to a gallant but vanquished foe, would be reported back to the Minister of Marine in Paris as soon as Poitier and the other prisoners were landed under a flag of truce in Porto Ercole. This would indicate that the British considered that Poitier had fought a brave fight. There would be no gossip about papers not destroyed - only two living men knew about them. Ramage went to a drawer in his desk, took out the lead-weighted box with its smashed lid, and went out to the quarter gallery. He dropped it over the side. The letters would have sunk long ago.