"What did Mr Ramage say?" Stafford demanded of Jackson as soon as the sentry had herded them below again after their morning exercise.

"Said he hoped to have some news for us when the packet arrived from England in about four weeks' time."

Stafford sniffed. " 'Ave to be patient, don't we."

"Perhaps you'd sooner wait in a French prison," Jackson said unsympathetically. "For a year or two."

"I'd sooner be on shore wiv the señoritas."

"Italy," Rossi said, "that would be better. In fact Genova: there the women understand."

"Understand what?" Stafford asked innocently.

"Understand what to do with young and innocent sailors like you when they come on shore with much money in their pockets."

"What do they do?"

"Oh, take them by the hand for a walk along the street and feed them sweet cakes!"

Jackson waved them to be quiet as he turned round to face the rest of the Arabella's crew.

"Listen, all of you: a message from Mr Ramage. No cheering or yelling after I've told you because we don't want to alarm the Frog guards. Now, Mr Ramage has made some sort of bargain with the French prizemaster to pay a ransom, so there's a chance we'll all be freed. And the Arabella, too. It'll be a month before he hears from London whether the Admiralty agree to paying."

Suddenly Jackson realized that only eleven men - the former Tritons - were grinning; the packetsmen had long faces. Not only long faces: he thought they were suddenly suspicious and hostile. The Tritons had worked hard to restore good relations after the packetsmen had been killed as a result of Captain Stevens' order to cut the sheets and braces, but obviously that had all gone by the board.

The Bosun pushed his way through the crowd of men and stood in front of Jackson.

"How does a Jonathan come to be in the Navy, eh?" he demanded aggressively.

Jackson laughed cheerfully. "Thought I'd give you chaps a hand!"

"That's a damned Yankee sort of answer," the Bosun sneered. "And what's this Mister Ramage mean to all you people anyway?"

Jackson thought for a moment. "We served with him once."

"Where?"

"At sea," Jackson said, "and what's it mean to you!" He thought quickly. These men would never be friendly: there was some gulf that he didn't understand. But the Tritons had to have the upper hand. His eyes narrowed. "You're the fellow that tried to kill Mr Ramage. We're the fellows that'd die for him. Just remember that - you and your shipmates."

Suddenly the Bosun, a swarthy and heavily built man, stepped forward and grabbed the front of Jackson's shirt with both hands.

"What's going on?" he bellowed, shaking Jackson. "What are you and that meddling lieutenant planning with-"

He broke off with a yelp of pain, hurriedly pushing Jackson away, and the American saw Rossi's grinning face over the Bosun's shoulder.

"Not to move, Bosun," he said, "otherwise..."

"You damned dago, you'll cut open my back!"

A moment later Rossi's hand, holding a knife, came round the Bosun to hold the point against the man's stomach. "And the front too, if you make the move."

Jackson waited a full minute, watching the Bosun's face beading with perspiration, the eyes flickering fearfully from side to side, trying to see Rossi but not daring to move.

"All right, Rosey," Jackson said, waving the Italian away. "I think he understands now."

The Bosun stepped nimbly to one side, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "Where the hell did you get that knife? The Frogs searched us!"

"Si, they make the search," Rossi said calmly and, putting his left hand into his pocket, took out another knife which he handed to Jackson. The Bosun watched fascinated as the Italian put his hand back into the pocket and took out two more knives, giving one to Stafford and the other to Maxton.

"Is magic," Rossi said nonchalantly fetching out four watches, several gold rings and a small medallion. He gave the rings and watches to Jackson. "You can give them back to Mr Ramage when you see him."

Jackson took them without a word. He had hidden them with the knives in the packet's belfry just before the privateersmen boarded, and had been trying to retrieve them ever since the ship anchored in the Tagus. Yet he had not noticed Rossi anywhere near the belfry when they were on deck exercising.

Their silence showed the packetsmen were impressed, but Jackson tried to guess why the mention of freedom had made them surly. He had expected cheers, but instead...

"What's bothering you all?" he asked the Bosun. "You seem upset at the idea of getting freed!"

"Did you mean the Frogs take money and give us back the ship?"

"Yes. We'll be able to sail her back to Falmouth."

"So the insurance won't pay out?"

"For the ship?"

"For everything."

"Damned if I know," Jackson admitted, "but I can't see anyone paying out for the ship if she hasn't been lost."

"Our ventures," the Bosun said. "What about them?"

"Have the Frogs taken 'em?"

"Yes, but they're still on board."

"Then you haven't lost them, have you?"

"So the insurance won't pay out?"

Jackson stared at the man. Was he being deliberately stupid? "I don't know what you're driving at, but you know dam' well that insurers don't pay unless something's lost."

The packetsmen began muttering among themselves and Rossi had moved closer to hear what they were saying. Stafford looked at Jackson questioningly and Maxton moved so he stood with his back against the bulkhead.

As the tension in the cabin increased, Jackson realized that the packetsmen were becoming the enemy; that he and the eleven Tritons - and Mr Ramage of course - were slowly being pushed over on to the side of the French privateersmen. A glance at Rossi, Stafford, Maxton and several of the more perceptive Tritons showed that they too were conscious of strange currents. And almost at once Jackson sniffed danger. Should they make a show of strength right now, in the hope of deterring the packetsmen from trying anything silly?

The more he thought about it, the more sure he was that for some strange reason the packetsmen had expected the insurance underwriters to pay out for a total loss. Now they knew that Mr Ramage had arranged something that could free both ship and crew, they were angry. And, Jackson thought, that means they will probably try to do something to wreck Mr Ramage's negotiations; something that would force the French prizemaster to take the ship to a French port...

By now the packetsmen were grouped round the Bosun at the far end of the cabin, and Jackson waved to the Tritons. "Here, lads!"

They grouped round him, all muttering the same question: "What are they up to, Jacko?"/

"What are they up to?" Jackson repeated loudly. "I don't know for sure, lads, but it smells to me like treachery!"

The Bosun turned to listen and the packetsmen stopped talking.

"Their captain didn't want to escape from the privateer - you all saw that," Jackson continued. "You saw the two men at the wheel dropping the ship off to leeward. And you saw the Bosun try to kill Mr Ramage. Well, lads, in London they'd call that treason, and they'd march 'em off to Tyburn and string 'em up. At first I thought it was just those four - and maybe the Surgeon as well - but perhaps the rest of them can be bought for a guinea as well.

"But," he said, speaking very clearly, "they don't stand a chance, whatever they're up to. The French prizemaster wants to sell the ship to Mr Ramage, instead of risking being recaptured on the way back to France. So he won't take too kindly to anyone trying to interfere. Nor will the privateersmen, since they'll share the ransom money. And none of us wants to end up in a French prison. So that leaves these packetsmen on their own."