Rossi went over to join Yorke while Jackson walked to the breech of the gun and whispered, "Everything's ready, sir. Do you think you'll be able to hear what's said?"

"I think so, but you can repeat it if necessary."

Then he heard Yorke call, "Send up your spokesman. One man, unarmed."

There was a pause as the mutineer replied.

Jackson whispered, "Didn't hear that, sir."

"This is Mr Yorke: I'm in command of the Arabella now, thanks to the Bosun and Harris."

Again Jackson could not hear the mutineers' reply.

Yorke called down the hatch, "You've no guarantee we won't seize your spokesman, but you're holding the Marchesa: she's enough security ... Very well, one man, and he stops at the top of the ladder."

A minute later Yorke said, "Right, stand there. Now, why did you want to see the Captain?"

"To give our orders!" said the mutineer.

"Go on, then," Yorke said mildly.

"You alter course immediately for Coruña. That's the first order."

"We are already on course for Coruña. The course for Falmouth and Coruña is the same until we get to Cabo Finisterra. Then we turn east to Coruña."

"Very well, see you do that."

"I didn't say we would," Yorke said sharply.

"We'll see about that in a minute," the mutineer sneered. "The second order is that you don't try to interfere with us."

"Go on."

"The third is you release Harris and the Bosun."

For a moment Ramage cursed himself: he hadn't anticipated that demand. What would Yorke do?

"You can have the Bosun this minute," Yorke said quietly.

"Right, send him here."

"He'll have to be carried. He'll be dead before you get him to the bottom of the ladder, though."

"How so?" the mutineer demanded.

"The surgeon's working hard this very moment to save his life."

"Wait," the mutineer said, and Jackson whispered to Ramage that he'd gone down the ladder. For a moment Ramage wondered whether to risk having Jackson pass a message to Yorke about Harris, then decided against it: Yorke was capable of dealing with that.

"Mutineer's back," Jackson whispered.

"Well, Mr Yorke, your orders from the mutineers are that the Bosun's life must be saved."

"I'm no surgeon and I can't perform miracles. Mr Bowen's doing his best, so don't be absurd."

"What about Harris, then?"

"Harris!" Yorke said with a sniff. "No surgeon can do anything for him!"

"Oh Gawd," the mutineer exclaimed. "We heard only one shot..."

"It only needs one," Yorke said crisply. "Now, you mutineers are trapped down on the messdeck; why the devil do you think I'm going to take any notice of so-called orders from you?"

"Because if you don't, we'll cut the Marchesa's throat."

"Whose idea is it to threaten to murder a helpless woman?" Yorke asked casually.

"Twas Harris's, God rest his soul; he was the one what planned to get us our liberty."

"Very well, what guarantee can you give that if I sail the ship to Coruña you'll free the Marchesa unharmed when we get there?"

The mutineer was silent for several moments, then went below again to consult with his shipmates.

"That was smart of Mr Yorke," Jackson whispered. "Everything he said was true but the fellow believes Harris is dead. Pity he isn't."

Two minutes passed before they heard Yorke ask, "Well? What have you got to offer."

"You've got our word of honour."

Yorke roared with laughter. "Do you think anyone in the world would accept the word of men who are guilty of murder, mutiny, kidnapping and blackmail? Are you drunk?" he asked suspiciously.

"But ... but we didn't do no murdering!"

"Oh yes you did! Eleven of you - I'll ignore the two boys - planned mutiny and kidnapping. If people get murdered in the process you're all equally guilty. Ask any judge."

Once again the mutineer was silent, and Yorke said, "You've got the Marchesa as a hostage. Very well, if I sail this ship to Coruña I want hostages from you. You hand over the Marchesa to me unharmed in Coruña, and I'll hand over my hostages unharmed."

"I'll have to ask my mates."

"Two hostages," Yorke said as the man went below.

Ramage knew the next two or three minutes were critical. If the six mutineers agreed, it would leave only four of them and the two cabin boys down on the messdeck: four men and the boys to guard both the hatch and Gianna. They might insist on one, and Yorke would have to agree, but it still left them weaker - and even one mutineer as a hostage for Gianna's safety was better than nothing. Would they insist on the release of the three packetsmen he had in irons?

Then Yorke was speaking to the mutineer again.

"One hostage, you say? One of you murderers as security for the life of the Marchesa? Don't be absurd," he said contemptuously.

"But what about the three of our mates who were on watch?" the mutineer asked lamely.

"In irons and lucky to be alive."

"Well, sir, you've got four hostages, then..."

"Four? Those three are prisoners, not hostages!"

"Well, if anything happens to them," the mutineer said stubbornly, "it'll be too bad for the Marchesa. My shipmates say one more is enough."

"Very well, send him up."

"I'm the one."

"Step out on deck, then, and let's have a look at you," Yorke said, moving clear of the hatch and at the same time clearing the field of fire for Wilson.

As soon as the man emerged from the hatch Yorke said sharply, "Now, I want proof that the Marchesa is safe."

"You can't go down there," the mutineer said doggedly.

"If you've harmed her -"

"No, no, she's safe," the man said hurriedly. "One of the Tritons can call down to her."

Ramage just managed to stop himself giving an audible sigh of relief.

Yorke signalled to Rossi, who promptly shouted a stream of Italian down the hatch. Before the startled mutineer could intervene, Ramage heard Gianna replying. He could not distinguish what she said, but her tone of voice told him she was not only alive but in good spirits.

Rossi shouted back and as the mutineer stepped forward, protesting that he'd not given permission for a long conversation, Yorke was laughing. "My dear fellow, you know Italians; they couldn't say anything briefly if they tried. He asked her if she wants her toilet things and clothes - you surely don't expect her to stay in her nightdress all the way to Coruña!"

"Well, no," the mutineer said uncomfortably as he heard Gianna answering again, "but-"

"Hairbrush, comb, shoes. You really don't expect the Marchesa to wear a sailor's shirt and tie her hair in a queue?"

"No, but-"

"Well then, just be patient and give Rossi time to find out what she wants."

"But that's the third-"

"Are you married? Have you ever met a woman who could decide in a minute what she needs when she goes away for a week?"

"Well-"

"Have you?" Yorke insisted, hoping Rossi would hurry. "Come on, yes or no!"

"But-"

"Goes away for a week, I said. But the Marchesa has just been kidnapped, so obviously she needs more time. Anyway, your mates down there can stop the conversation whenever they want."

"Yes, but they'll think I've given permission for-"

"And so you have," Yorke said heartily, noting the man had revealed his role among them, "and very civil of you, too. I'm sure the Marchesa appreciates it-" He broke off, seeing Rossi turning away from the hatch. "Is she all right?" he asked the Italian.

"Yes, sir; is bruised in the arms by these banditi, but..."

"Very well," Yorke turned and waved to Jackson. "This man is our hostage. Take him away and secure him."

"But you're not going to put me in irons -"

"What do you expect? You've got the Marchesa locked up below-"

"In irons, sir," Rossi interjected.

"In irons? Well, I'm damned if I'm going to dress you up as Father Neptune and let you strut around the ship," he told the mutineer.