Just as Paolo (the slight accent in his voice suddenly reminding Ramage of Gianna) reported that a merchant ship called the Beatrice had hoisted a wheft from the foretopmast, showing that she wanted to communicate with the commander. Ramage said briskly: "Loose the foretopsail and fire one gun . . ."

Aitken gave a bellow that sent a dozen men up the foremast and out along the yard: Southwick shouted an order to the gunner while having the men on the fo'c'sle heave a few more turns on the capstan and haul up more of the anchor cable, which had already been taken in to "short stay", the last position before Southwick would report "Anchor aweigh . . , up and down."

"The Beatrice, sir?" Paolo asked.

"Take a turn round the foredeck and then report it to me," Ramage said and Paolo grinned and walked forward.

Ramage sighed: none of the mules seemed to be making a move towards weighing, and from the look of the bedraggled ship with the wheft, the Beatrice, she probably needed everything, including men to man the pump . . . Well, this damned convoy was going to be sailed to England "by the book". Ramage had his orders from Tewtin to take the convoy to England: the SIGNALS and INSTRUCTIONS gave the mules their orders; his own conduct was governed by the large volume of the King's Regulations and Admiralty Instructions, and the very slim volume comprising the Articles of War; and that was that. Any mule wanting anything was going to be charged at the rate set down; those that did not keep up with the convoy without a good reason would get a tow to frighten them; after that they would be left to disappear astern, prey for French privateers.

Captain Ramage in the Calypso and the Count of Rennes in a large merchantman each had their own reasons for getting to England in a hurry, and Ramage had decided that the urgency of him getting news of Sarah more than justified sticking to the rules: there was no regulation saying that the King's ships were responsible for getting merchant ships under way or keeping them afloat: this had become a habit because most convoy commanders were (quite reasonably) frightened of the effect it could have on their career if some wretched master of a merchant ship complained to his owners, telling a self-serving story, and they in turn complained to Their Lordships, naming the captain and listing his alleged misdeeds.

As too many frigate captains had found to their cost, it was harder to answer allegations than to make them, and Lloyd's wielded influence far greater than most officers expected. And, of course, masters trying to justify their own conduct or shortcomings or that of their owners, did not always pay strict attention to the truth. However, frigate commanders understood one thing – Their Lordships appeared to fawn over Lloyd's, and a frigate captain found he was never employed again after a collision with them. There was a desperate shortage of frigates; there was a glut of post-captains to command them.

Ramage looked round the great bay. It was a good many years (a couple of centuries in fact) since it was named after Lord Carlisle, who had been made, as though by a whim, "Lord Proprietor of the English Caribbee Islands" by Charles I. Since then a good many thousand merchant ships had anchored in the Bay at the beginning or end of the long voyage to or from Europe. Once again another convoy was preparing to sail - though, he admitted sourly, at the moment there was little sign of it. The Calypso's foretopsail hung down like a curtain, slatting in the breeze; she had fired a gun, and the very first of the Signals from the Commander of the Convoy gave the explanation: Foretopsail loose . . . One gun. To prepare for sailing.

Both the other frigates were under way, and Ramage was pleasantly surprised at the men Tewtin had put in command.

But it was now time for the second signal from the convoy commander listed in the SIGNALS and INSTRUCTIONS: Maintopsail loose . . . One gun. To unmoor.

Ramage waved at Aitken, who was standing at the other side of the quarterdeck rail, and the first lieutenant lifted the speaking trumpet to his mouth, shouting an order which sent men racing up the ratlines and then out along the maintopsail yard. The sail billowed down as another spurt of smoke tried to race the echoing crash of the signal gun.

Pulling out the tube of his telescope, Ramage began inspecting the merchant ships and was reminded of a herd of cattle spread across a meadow. Left alone they would slowly chew the cud, clumsily rising every few hours, and if the wind got up or it began to rain, turning to face away from it. But the Calypso was now the barking dog coming into the meadow (not rushing, but slowly, like a well-trained animal) to disturb not just a few but every one of them.

The circular image in the glass revealed desultory movement on the fo'c'sle of two-thirds of the ships. But the only thing moving on board the Beatrice was the wheft, the knotted flag flapping at the foretopmasthead. Sidney Yorke's Emerald, by far the smartest in the anchorage, with hull and spars newly painted, the cordage showing the golden colour of new hemp, already had her anchor apeak and, with a foretopsail set, the ship was about to thread her way to leeward, away from the rest of the anchored ships and to the area well clear of the anchorage and off the town where the convoy was to form up. Form up. Ramage thought bitterly . . . easier to teach cows the quadrille than get these mules into their proper positions without broken bowsprits, ripped out jibbooms or, the more usual, having at least one ship locked in tight embrace with another, its jibboom and bowsprit stuck through the other's rigging, its bow locked amidships by torn planking . . .

Now Paolo was back. "Are you ready for my report, sir?" he asked with a grin.

"Yes - tell me, Mr Orsini, have you seen if any of the merchant ships have made me a signal?"

"Why yes, sir: I've just seen that one of them, the Beatrice, has a wheft flying at her foretopmasthead: I assume she wishes to communicate with you, sir."

"Very well, acknowledge it. If I remember rightly, hoisting a blue, white and red at the mizentopmasthead merely says: 'The Commander of the convoy sees the signal that is made to him'."

"Yes, sir, it doesn't specify which signal or who is making it," Paolo said, enjoying the game.

Ramage nodded and then, still looking through his glass, he groaned. "That horse won't start - the Beatrice is hoisting out a boat. We'll have the master on board in a few minutes with a list of requests ..."

" 'Bout time for the next gun, sir," Aitken reminded him, overhearing the conversation with Orsini and looking across at the Beatrice, a ship which was of no colour: her paint was worn off the hull by the combined attacks of sea and sea air, time and the wind. Time had turned the bare wood grey, so that she looked as if she had been built of driftwood. "The boat they've just hoisted out doesn't look as though she'll swim this far!" Aitken added.

And Ramage saw that the first couple of men who had climbed down into the boat were now busy bailing: obviously the planking of the boat, stowed on deck without a cover to protect the wood from the scorching sun, had split as the wood shrunk: "shakes", like the wrinkles on an old man's neck, would let the water leak through. It would take hours of soaking for the wood to swell up and staunch the leaks enough for the boat to be usable. Stowing the boat with water in it would have saved them a lot of trouble because the rolling of the ship would have kept the water swilling round.

"Very well, Mr Aitken, the last signal!"

The first lieutenant, after checking with Southwick that the anchor was off the ground, gave the order for the topsails to be sheeted home, and another gun to be fired. That was the final order to get the convoy under way and given in the SIGNALS and INSTRUCTIONS as To Weigh, the outward and leeward ships first.