Five merchant ships and a possible privateer, all peacefully anchored. Aformer privateer, Ramage corrected himself.

Well, obviously Trinidade had plenty of fresh water, and equally obviously the Admiralty might know nothing of the island, but it was well known to merchant ships regularly sailing to the Cape, India and Batavia . . . Probably, Ramage thought, if the Admiralty had written to the Honourable East India Company and asked them for details, a delighted John Company would have sent a chart with the watering places marked.

'Mainmast, sir,' Orsini called down. 'The small boat we first sighted - she's going alongside the one we think is a privateer.'

Suddenly Ramage found himself feeling cheerful: with five merchant ships in the anchorage, there would be some entertaining. The John Company ship would have passengers, and John Company masters, well paid, lived well and were often interesting men. The second British ship looked interesting. The Dutch ship was big enough to be one of the Dutch East India Company's fleet. And the Frenchmen, he thought, might not yet know of the peace treaty . . . no, they must, he realized, otherwise they would not be in here peacefully at anchor with British ships. They must all know - but how? The only way the British would know would be for a frigate to have reached the Cape with dispatches. That could have happened. But Dutch and French? Well, they could have met other Dutch and French ships, outward bound. That was obvious, he realized, irritated with himself.

'Anchoring, sir,' Southwick reminded him.

'Ah yes. From the way all the ships are on the south side of the bay, we must conclude there's foul ground on the north side. Two cables astern of the seaward British ship; have her bearing northeast.'

Southwick gave a quick helm order to the quartermaster and bellowed to the men to brace the topsail yards sharp up. Sheets were hauled home and the Calypso turned to starboard, hard on the wind for the last few hundred yards.

'Foretop - quarterdeck: that boat's leaving the privateer, sir.'

'She'll be calling on us: keep an eye on the others - especially the John Company ship.'

'Quite a social life, it'll be, sir,' Aitken said, and Ramage was not sure whether the first lieutenant was pleased or depressed.

'Yes, the first time any of us except Southwick has met a merchant ship in peacetime. We must mind our manners: very proud gentlemen, these John Company masters. Always anxious to put the Navy in its place.'

'Aye, and wealthy, too, sir, so I'm told. Silver cutlery, expensive china, only the best wines, fresh meat nearly every day because they carry so much livestock... Even fresh milk.'

'Unless the cow goes dry. But the luxury is for the passengers: they are paying a great deal of money for a first class passage to or from India.'

'These nabobs can afford it!'

'How I envy them,' Ramage said. 'If he had to go to India even your John Knox would have chosen an Indiaman and fresh milk in preference to a frigate and salt tack!'

'Make no mistake, sir, it's envy in my voice, not criticism.' Aitken said with a grin. 'Now, I'd better give Mr Southwick a hand.'

The master gave him a speaking-trumpet and went down to the maindeck, walking forward to the fo'c'sle where a group of men stood near the cable and bitts while others waited at the anchor, now hanging over the side ready for the order to let go.

Aitken glanced aloft and saw that the topsails were just drawing. Without bothering to look over the side he knew the Calypso was making less than three knots.

As he stood at the quarterdeck rail, deliberately leaving the handling of the ship to his officers, so that they increased their experience, Ramage watched the frigate's supernumeraries. Wilkins, sitting on the hammock nettings, was sketching: he would draw a few brief lines, write some words and tear off the page, stuff it in his pocket and then start work on a fresh sheet. A study for the Calypso's arrival at Trinidade? The five other ships against the harsh grey curve of the cliffs and the five peaks rising high behind them would be a challenge someone like Wilkins could not resist. The surveyors and draughtsmen seemed more interested in the land than the ships: they were probably discussing how they were going to find their way across the ridges, some of which looked very sharp, and up to the peaks. The botanist stood alone but he too was looking from one end of the island to the other - or, rather, what he could see of it as the Calypso glided into the bay, the southern headland and the northern bluff seeming to enclose her like welcoming arms.

Aitken was just shouting the order to back the foretopsail, to bring the Calypso to a stop within a hundred yards or so of the Indiaman, so that when the frigate settled back on the full scope of her cable she would be exactly where Ramage wanted, when Jackson hailed again.

'Foretop - four men in that boat, sir, apart from the oarsmen, and one of 'em is holding up something like a boardingpike.'

'How do you mean - threatening us?' Ramage lifted his telescope but could not for a moment sight the boat.

'No, sir - he's sitting on a thwart with it vertically between his knees. May be just a long stick.'

'Very well. Keep an eye on it - and watch for other boats: they'll be flocking over soon.'

'No one's moved yet, sir. Just a few people on the deck of each ship.'

Kenton, who had been standing to one side, waiting for orders, laughed to himself and then said: 'We surprised everyone and the ladies have rushed below to change into their best dresses and attend to their hair.'

'And you're hoping that some of the nabobs have eligible daughters, eh?'

'They'd have been snapped up by now, sir: Trinidade isn't famous as a place where impoverished lieutenants find rich young ladies to marry!'

Not famous yet,' Ramage said. 'You might start a fashion.'

There was a creak from the foretopsail yard, and then a dull thump as the wind caught the sail on its forward side, pressing the canvas back against the mast, slowing and then stopping the ship.

Southwick was standing on the fo'c'sle, watching Aitken. The first lieutenant's left arm shot up vertically and at once Southwick turned and barked out an order. The heavy anchor dropped into the water with a splash and the cable ran out the hawse with a noise like a hundred galloping cattle. A few moments later the familiar smell of scorched rope and wood drifted aft.

By now the bosun was standing beside the larboard quarterboat, waiting for it to be lowered so that he could be rowed round the ship to give the appropriate signals for squaring the yards, while aloft seamen were furling the courses. The moment the foretopsail had finished its present task of giving the Calypso sternway, putting a strain on the cable and ensuring that the anchor dug itself in, it and the maintopsail would be furled and the jibs neatly stowed at the foot of their stays.

Ramage was pleased that there were ships here for another reason. Aitken had kept the ship's company busy, except during the hottest part of the Doldrums, smartening up the Calypso. Long days without rain and with the sails furled meant that masts and yards could be painted, leather fire buckets polished, capstan painted in blue and white with some of the patterns and the crown on top picked out in gold. He was thankful now that he had bought a few books of gold leaf: they were expensive, but gilt work was always an economy because gold paint did not last and always turned into the colour of grey mud under the twin assault of sea and sun. The Calypso's boats looked new: the hulls were a little darker than sky blue, the top strake white, and the metalwork black. The rowlocks had been picked out with gilt, and the oars were white. It seemed a pity to put the boats in the water: within a few weeks green weed and limpets would be growing thick and fast on their bottoms.