He paused as the mutineer said something, then declared abruptly, "I'm going to talk it over with Mr Southwick. Stay there; the sentry up here has orders to shoot anyone who sticks his head over the coaming."

Ramage got up and hurried aft, where Yorke joined him and asked wrathfully, "You heard all that?"

"Only your side of it."

"They say they'll kill the Marchesa if I let the frigate approach."

"What good to they think that'll do them?" Ramage asked quietly.

"They say if the frigate sends a boarding party they'll be shot or hanged anyway, so they've nothing more to lose if they kill the Marchesa as well. The scoundrel reminded me they couldn't be killed twice."

Ramage nodded. "I hoped they'd be too scared to think of forcing us to keep the frigate away. Or if they did, they'd decide it would be impossible."

He rubbed the scars over his brow and saw Southwick shaking his head, occupied in his own thoughts. Then the old Master came over to him and said quietly, "Don't chance anything, sir; they're desperate men. I'd sooner go into Coruña and hand myself over to the Spanish than risk the Marchesa being harmed."

"Me too," Yorke said, "and the Devil take the report to the First Lord. Anyway, even if this horse won't start, you've still got another in the stable."

"Aye," Southwick said, "we can pretend the frigate is satisfied with the private signal and goes about her business. It gives us a bit more time. We can't risk calling their bluff, sir..."

And Ramage knew both men were right; his gamble had failed but, as Yorke had said, there was still one more chance. "Very well," he told Yorke, "tell them you and Southwick will try to reassure the frigate. Say you can't make any promises - and remind 'em we have the Bosun and some mutineers up here in irons..."

"They've thought about that," Yorke said. "The fellow said they were all in the same position, whether they were down on the messdeck or in irons. He's right, too," he added ruefully.

Twenty minutes later, with the imaginary frigate dropping astern on its way to Lisbon, apparently reassured by the Arabella's private signal, Yorke came back after reporting the fact to the mutineers.

"They say that someone can talk to the Marchesa this afternoon," he told Ramage. "They refused to agree to Rossi at first, but I said she might want some woman's things that she'd be too embarrassed to shout about in front of a lot of strangers, whereas speaking in her own language to Rossi..."

"Thanks," Ramage said. "Let's go down to my cabin; I'm so damned depressed."

Sitting in the same chairs, with the carpet still damp where a couple of seamen had tried to scrub away the stains of the Bosun's blood, Yorke said, "It looks as though we've no choice but to head for Coruña."

"You don't think the second plan will work?"

"I'm afraid not. They're really desperate down there. If you'd seen that bloody man's eyes..." He shuddered at the thought.

"But you realize that now we can't risk going into Coruña, don't you?" Ramage asked quietly.

"It's our only chance of saving the Marchesa's life," Yorke said bluntly.

Ramage shook his head. "On the contrary, it's a sure way of having them kill her. Their reaction to our 'frigate' shows that. Why do you suppose I said I was depressed? Look, the Navy's blockading both Coruña and Ferrol. There's probably a squadron of our 74-gun ships in the offing; certainly two or three of our frigates within a few miles. Their job is to prevent any vessel getting in or out, whether a ship of the line or a fishing boat. They'll see us trying to get in and we'll be boarded. There's no way we can prevent it. And we know the mutineers will kill Gianna the moment a British ship gets within hail. Signal to our hearts' content, send a boat over with a letter of explanation ... the fact is no frigate captain would believe our story and certainly wouldn't let us go in to surrender the ship to the Dons."

"Supposing you went over and spoke to him?"

"He'd probably put me under arrest because he'd think I was deserting to the enemy. Wouldn't you, in his position?"

"He could come on board and see for himself."

Ramage stared at him. "That's the point! If you were one of those mutineers, what would you do the moment you knew the frigate captain had come on board?"

Yorke held his hands out, palms upwards, in a gesture of despair.

"What in God's name can we do then? They'll kill her if we don't go to Coruña; yet they'll kill her if we do and get intercepted. Are you absolutely sure our blockade is as close as that?" he asked.

"Certain. Ask Southwick. No," he said when Yorke shook his head, "I'd be glad if you did, because I will if you don't. I want to be certain."

"Very well," Yorke said, and left the cabin, to return almost immediately. "He agrees with you. Close blockade, summer and winter. Says he hadn't realized the position we are in now. The old fellow is almost in tears. He worships her, you know."

"I know," Ramage said soberly.

"What the devil are we to do? We'll be off Cabo Finisterra by tomorrow. We daren't go into Coruña and we daren't stay out. It's almost unbelievable."

Ramage suddenly stood up, thumping his forehead with the back of his hand. "We're damn fools!" he exclaimed. "We can go into a Spanish port that isn't blockaded. Some fishing village, or even an open anchorage." He began walking up and down the cabin, picturing the coastline to the northwards. "Yes, there's Corcubion, right in the lee of Cabo Finisterra. Difficult entrance without a chart, though. Camarinas Bay - that's it! Ten miles or so beyond the Cape, and we can get in easily. No patrolling frigates - it's our one hope!"

Yorke looked doubtful. "Don't risk it without the mutineers agreeing," he advised.

"Why?"

"Because these men don't know the Spanish coast. They've picked on Coruña because they've heard of it. If you go in somewhere else they might suspect a trick."

"Go and talk to them," Ramage said impatiently. "Point out Camarinas is nearer and - hellfire, what difference does it make to them? It's Spanish - they get what they want and we're made prisoner!"

Yorke got up. "I'll try it," he said, leaving the cabin. "I'll tell 'em about the blockade, eh?"

"Yes, warn them we're certain to be intercepted and boarded. A squadron of seventy-fours, frigate patrols - even Spanish ships."

"You stay here," Yorke said. "You make me nervous, crouching behind that damned gun, listening to every word I say."

But when he returned to the cabin five minutes later Ramage knew as he came through the door that he had failed to persuade them.

"They won't hear of it. Coruña or Ferrol, or else..."

"You explained about the blockade?"

"Of course I did," Yorke said impatiently. "They say it's up to me to keep frigates away. They said I did it once less than an hour ago, and I can do it again."

"But why not Camarinas?"

Yorke shook his head wearily. "They've a good enough reason, and I suppose we should have thought of it. They say how are they to know I won't take the Arabella into a Portuguese port and tell them it's Spanish. They know Cabo Finisterra isn't far north of the border between Portugal and Spain."

"How will they know it is Coruña or Ferrol, then?"

"I asked them that. Apparently one of the men has been to both: says he'll recognize them at once."

Ramage sprawled on the settee, drained of all energy and hope. "So we've no choice," he said, almost to himself. "We have to try the second plan."

"It puts the very devil of a responsibility on the Marchesa," Yorke protested.

"Of course it does," Ramage said harshly, "and if she'd gone home in the other packet as I asked her this would never have happened."

He buried his head in his hands. "I suppose I don't really mean it like that."