'Why t'night? Blimey, we ain't 'ardly clear of Spit'ead. I fink they'll wait 'til tomorrer night, or even later, when we're clear o' the chops of the Channel.'

'Tonight we're closer to good French ports; Cherbourg's less than seventy miles dead to leeward. Easy to find; easy to enter. No blockade. And Le Havre. After that it'd have to be Brest and they'd never get in without running up on some rocks.'

'But they can't think Mister Ramage won't be on guard t'night, surely?'

'Doesn't make much difference, does it? Just him, Mr Southwick and the Master's Mate. Appleby's only a kid anyway. The new surgeon'll be drunk—he's a soak; he'd got the shakes when he came on board. Three against nearly sixty.'

'What'll we do, Jacko?'

Jackson saw the knuckles of the cockney's hands whiten as he spoke. 'I don't know. I've been thinking all day and I just don't know.'

'Had the chance of a word wiv Mister Ramage?'

'No—and I daren't risk being seen trying.'

The cockney swore in a flat, hard voice.

'What about the rest of us Kathleens?'

'Rossi's sound, but not much use because they know he won't stand any nonsense: he's already told 'em that. That means if they rise Rossi'll be the first to go. Evans, Fuller, Maxton—I'm sure of them.'

'An' me 'n' you.'

'Yes: six of us if Rossi stays alive. Nine with the Captain and Mr Southwick and the Master's Mate.'

'Count the kid out: he don't know nothink about nothink. What'll we do, Jacko: this is our last chance to talk a'fore they pipe "Down hammicks"?'

Jackson said nothing and Stafford continued: 'So help me, what a bleedin' mess. Never thought I'd ever see a ship mutiny, let alone the 'ole Fleet. The claims are fair—no arguin' against that. But 'ere we are on the side of the orficers...'

'Not the officers, the way you mean it. Just Mr Ramage and Mr Southwick. If it was anyone else it'd be different.'

'Yus, s'pose that's it. But wot abaht the rest of the Kathleens—why the "ell can't they make up their pudden minds?'

'They have,' Jackson said shortly. 'They're for Mr Ramage —but they can do arithmetic, too. They just look at the few men on one side and three dozen on the other. I'll bet everyone of 'em is thinking of the chap in the next hammock, if he's a Triton. Every one of 'em knows a Triton's only got to reach over in the dark with a knife in his hand... If it was just a question of those for Mr Ramage lining up on the larboard gangway and those against him on the starboard, then you could count on 'em coming out in the open.'

'Well, looks as if you an' me and Rossi and the uvvers'd better stay aft ternight.'

'Can't—they'd see we weren't in our hammocks and know a mutiny was expected. We've got to avoid bloodshed.'

'Well then, fink o' sumfink else,' Stafford said impatiently.

'I'm trying to, but you keep nagging at me. Hey! Remember what Mr Ramage always says—"Use surprise". Like he did with the San Nicolas—and today, cutting the anchor cable?'

'Yus, but 'e'd got a haxe—aye, an' "e knew 'e 'ad a cable to cut. Where's our cable? Wot've we got fer a haxe?'

'I don't know, but we're thinking the wrong way. We're thinking of defending the quarterdeck against these mad bas tards. We've got to attack first.'

'Ho yus, I'm all fer that. One glorious charge from one end of the lower deck ter the uvver, choppin' all their big toes orf wiv a tommyhawk an' smacking their 'ands wiv the flat of a cutlass blade an' tellin' 'em to be'ave. Yus, that's a real good plan, Jacko. Extra tot fer you, me lad.'

'Oh stow it,' Jackson said wearily. 'As a crowd they don't count; they can't even talk without leaders, let alone do anything. One leader, anyway; that fellow Harris.'

Two others as well'

'Oh? Who?'

The cook's mate and the captain o' the foretop.'

'I've been wondering about them. Any others?'

'I'm not sure, but they're the ones that matter. I saw 'em clacking away at dinner. They're all in number six mess.'

'Three of them,' mused Jackson. 'So the odds are on our side—unless we wait too long.'

'What the 'ell you talkin' about? Odds are on our side? That's as likely as rum comin' from Aldgate Pump!'

'Six of us against three of them.'

'Three of—oh, I see. We gets 'em on their own. Cor, Jacko, you've------'

'Keep your voice down—and keep still!'

'Yes. Listen Jacko, maybe it's even easier'n you think. That Rossi, he moves like a cat an' he's diabulolical with a knife------'

'Diabolical.'

'S'wot I said. An' Maxton, 'e's the same. If 'e luffs up to weather o' bruwer 'Arris an' Rossi to loo'ard, an' each of 'em gently tickles 'is ribs wiv a knife, an' makes 'im swear he------'

'What? That won't stop 'em mutinying tonight, will it? Making Harris and his two mates swear to be good boys! You think they'd keep their promises?'

'Yes,' Stafford muttered dejectedly. 'No, I mean, yer can't trust no one, an' that's a fade.'

Tact.'

Tact,' Stafford repeated automatically. 'Orlright, Jacko, what's 'appened to our odds, then?'

Jackson looked at his fingertips and then scratched his head.

'Put yourself in the Tritons' places. They suddenly find out the three men who're supposed to lead the mutiny when it gets dark have disappeared. Like that. Magic. One minute they're there, next minute they've gone. Vanished. Not even a puff of smoke. What'd you do?'

'Stay in me 'ammick an' keep me bleedin' 'ead down,' Stafford said promptly.

'Me too. So brother Harris and the other two must vanish. No noise, no puff of smoke. Just vanish.'

'Over the side?'

'There's got to be no bloodshed, Staff. This is going to be a long voyage. Once we're over this bit o" trouble, we've got to mess with these jokers. They'll forget all about it, once they're down south in the sunshine. No, they've got to vanish just long enough for us to get the rest of the Kathleens out in the open—so the Tritons can see it's no go.'

'But they'll get another chance unless we make 'Arris into shark bait.'

'No—after that we leave it to Mr Ramage.'

'What'll 'e do?'

'I don't know. He'll do something, though.'

Then, keeping his voice low, the American explained his plan.

*

While Southwick was on watch Ramage sat at his desk with i large sheet of lined paper in front of him which was divided into many columns, and the muster book was open beside him, giving the name of every man in the ship. He'd written 'General Quarter, Watch and Station Bill' across the top of the page and now, without knowing anything about more than half the men, had to fill in the rest of it.

It took more than an hour to complete because each man had several different tasks, depending on whether the ship was weighing anchor; setting, reefing or furling sails; going into battle or going into harbour.

Each man was given a number, and the completed Bill listed all the tasks to be carried out in the course of various evolutions with a number beside each of them.

To make sure he hadn't made any mistakes, Ramage chose a number at random and checked it on the Bill. Number eight —he was in the larboard watch; in battle he was one of the two loaders at number five carronade on the larboard side; he was one of the boarding party, and under arms had a cutlass and tomahawk; when furling or reefing sails he worked on the fore-topsail, but when the order was given to loose sails— which needed fewer men—his post was at the capstan ready to weigh anchor. When the brig tacked or wore, he would be down on deck, hauling on the bowlines, trimming the sail...

Ramage's eye ran across the line. No, number eight was not expected to be in two or three places at once—the usual mistake made when drawing up a new Bill. He chose other numbers, checked them, and found they were correct. So Southwick could read it to the men before evening quarters.