Ramage was just realizing the hopelessness of his position when he thought of the second privateer, due in any day with more prizes. More ships, more passengers, more guards, and her own crew to reinforce the Lynx's men watching the prisoners on shore. There was no reason to suppose she would be less successful than the Lynx, so any day now there could be another five prizes here, with forty-eight guards watching eighty hostages . . . Enough privateersmen with enough hostages, Ramage realized - and wished he had gone on halfpay, as Gianna had wanted - to force the Calypso to surrender. And he knew, without giving it a moment's more thought, that the instant Tomás or Hart demanded the surrender of the Calypso as the price for not massacring eighty hostages, he would agree. He had no choice, although no court martial could ever agree because none of the captains forming the court would ever believe that Tomás and Hart would carry out their threat. One had to see both men's eyes to understand that: they were both outcasts from the human race by their own choice. In wartime, privateers with genuine letters of marque were permitted, but privateersmen who, when the peace came, made the coldblooded decision to become pirates and prey on ships of all nationalities, were turning their backs on civilization; they were quite deliberately striding into the jungle, and no naval captain sitting at a table in the great cabin of one of the King's ships listening to the evidence against Captain Ramage on several charges - he heard an echo of the crazy voice of the Invincible's captain - would understand, or even think of, the law of the jungle.

'But what made you think. Captain Ramage, that, ah, the privateersmen, would carry out their threat to murder the hostages?'

'The look in their eyes.'

'So you thereupon surrendered His Majesty's frigate the Calypso, and her ship's company?'

'Yes, sir."

'Because of the look in a privateersman's eye?'

It sounded ludicrous and it sounded unbelievable, and he could hear the knowing laughs of the other members of the court. There would be pressure, too, from the Honourable East India Company, who would probably be smarting from the loss of the Earl of Dodsworth - the underwriters might well not pay out for a ship lost to pirates in peacetime: Indiamen were armed to beat off pirates in the Eastern seas, but the Earl of Dodsworth did not expect to find an enemy this side of the Equator. Along the Malabar coast, yes, every John Company ship expected to find pirates there, but not in the middle of the South Atlantic.

There is only one way out of it, he thought miserably. Boarding parties will have to swim over on a dark night and deal with the guards.

Suddenly he sat up. There were enough swimmers in the ship's company. It might work - it depended how often the guards were inspected by people from the Lynx. It would take a day or two of observation to find out.

The first survey boat to come back, commanded by Wagstaffe and with Williams's party, carried two excited men: Garret and Wilkins both came up to Ramage, who was walking up and down the quarterdeck hoping a practical plan would suddenly emerge from the tiderace of ideas coursing through his mind.

Garret's grey hair looked as though it was going to compete with Southwick's white mop, and his boots were dusty and his breeches torn. 'Splendid, splendid!' he exclaimed. 'There's water, and anyway I estimate there's enough rainfall for the crops we want to plant.'

'What about clearing land?'

'Several flat areas - we'll need a few men to cut down some bushes, but I recommend burning. Burn and then dig. A few heavy showers and then we can plant. Then we can go home!'

Ramage turned to Wilkins. 'I trust your notebooks are full!'

'Full enough,' Wilkins said. 'The sight of the ships anchored in the bay. Why, we could see a big reef lying along here -' he pointed over the larboard side. 'If we'd gone outside the prizes, we'd have run into it. A wonderful effect it gives, seen from the hills. It'll be a challenge to get it on to canvas.'

'The Irish potatoes will do well,' Garret said, as though he had been spending the time Wilkins was talking coming to a decision about it. 'Not sure about the sweet potatoes, though.'

'The sailors will shed no tears if you can't make the yams grow,' Ramage said. 'They were brought up on Irish potatoes and most of them hate yams. Same goes for soldiers, I imagine. I mean, they'll hate yams,' he added for the sake of the literal-minded botanist.

'What about the wild life?' he asked both men.

Wilkins grimaced and Garret said: 'Very little that we saw. Some turtles. The land birds you'd expect (and very tame), the usual sea birds of course, but no sign of coneys. I'd have expected some wild dogs - a couple landed from a ship would breed and quickly turn wild - but saw none. Signs of goats, but they're a mixed blessing because they rip out everything.'

Wagstaffe said: 'I saw half a dozen tortoises walking about, and a turtle swimming near the beach, so we might catch one to give us a tasty dinner, sir. There is a fantastic amount of fish.'

Wilkins interrupted excitedly: 'The water is so clear you could see them from the boat, especially round rocks. I've never seen fish like them before - bright colours, gaudy designs, odd shapes.'

Garret shook his head mournfully. 'All colour and no taste, typical tropical fish. Same in the Mediterranean; the French disguise the lack of taste with spicy sauces. Hot water fish has to end up as a foreign kickshaw, I say. You can't beat cold water fish for taste. And I know the captain agrees with me.'

It would be a brave man who disagreed with Garret, Ramage thought, but the botanist was right and he nodded, remembering too late that Garret was in fact repeating a comment of his.

He beckoned to Williams, who hurried up the quarterdeck ladder, dusty yet happy, like a man who had had a successful day's rough shooting.

'Did you see enough today to set your draughtsmen to work?'

The Welshman waved a handful of papers he was carrying. 'There's a week's work for them here, sir, and I expect White has as much or more.'

'What have you done today, then?'

'We've established where the signal station will be. Mr Renwick and Mr Wagstaffe agree on it, and we are using that as the base for all our calculations. We agreed on the site for two batteries, covering this bay, and one at the signal station. All subject to your approval, sir,' he added hurriedly.

'If Mr Renwick approves, I'm sure I shall,' Ramage said, reminding himself that the gunner, the one man whose opinion should have been of most value, was in fact keeping watch on the French Commerce - precisely because everyone knew that his opinion, if he could ever be persuaded or trapped into expressing it, would be worthless.

He caught sight of Rossi and Stafford walking forward and called to the maindeck: 'Pass the word for Mr Martin and Mr Orsini.'

The fourth lieutenant arrived first, the skin of his face red from the day's sun, his hat having protected his brow so that his hair seemed to be sprouting from a white skull cap. Ramage guessed the sunburn was painful; the skin of Martin's face seemed stiff and his eyes were bloodshot.

'A successful day's soundings, Martin?'

'I was just coming to report, sir. Yes, four fathoms over most of the inner half of the bay, we've sounded round that reef on our larboard beam. I have the depths where the privateer's anchored, and depths close to the nearest prize to her, the Commerce.'

'Was the privateer at all suspicious?'

'No, sir. Some of the men gave us a wave as we passed them soon after we began; otherwise they took no notice. I let the men make plenty of noise and sing out the soundings, so there was no doubt what we were doing.'