'Well, only if we tried to rescue you!'

'No,' she said quietly. 'Several days before you arrived, they decided there was no hope of getting ransom from us. Or, rather, it would take too long. So they decided to kill us on the day they took all the prizes away. When you arrived they realized they could use us as hostages to stop you capturing them.'

Suddenly Ramage realized the cunning of Tomás and Hart, and he hoped that Aitken and his men would have the same difficulty as Rossi. As though she guessed what he was thinking she asked, as she unlocked a trunk: 'What about the passengers in the other ships?'

'I hope by now those in the Amethyst have been rescued by some of my men.'

'And the rest - in the Heliotrope and the Friesland?'

'We tackle them tomorrow night. Tonight, I mean.'

'Do you mean to swim across to them?' She stood up and looked at him, but the shawl still threw a shadow over herfeatures.

'Yes. Obviously we'd be seen if we used boats.'

'But surely you have done enough, saving us.'

Deliberately misunderstanding her, he said: 'The Earl of Dodsworth is merely one of four with passengers, although the other privateer - yes, there is a second one - may bring in more any day.'

'No, I didn't mean that,' she said. 'You said one of your lieutenants was dealing with the Amethyst. I meant, cannot more of your lieutenants go to the other two ships? Is it usual for a frigate captain to swim around naked doing everything?'

'I am not naked,' he said stiffly, 'and you offered ...'

'Of course!' she lifted the lid of the trunk. 'Forgive me, I know nothing of naval ways and was curious. The colonel commanding a battalion is not expected to lead every patrol, that I do know.'

'You have the advantage of me there,' Ramage said ironically. 'I know nothing of how the Army goes about its business.'

'Well -' she tossed a pair of breeches across to him, and followed it with a shirt and a uniform jacket which was of a very dark colour, difficult to distinguish with the lantern, probably green, with heavy frogging across the front '- you are going to look like a soldier for the rest of the day. It will all fit. Do you want shoes? They're in another trunk. Hose, a clean stock - I don't imagine you will want to continue wearing your own - and do you want to try a hat? No? It would have suited you.'

He had put the lantern down on a table as he caught the garments she threw to him. That deep, vibrant voice: one did not hear it with the ears alone, and as he watched her he was thankful he could hold the bundle of clothes in front of him.

'You seem - er, knowledgeable, about men's wear, "Miss for now".'

'Yes.' She was not being unpleasant; it was a matter-of-fact agreement with what he had just said. She shut the lid of the trunk. 'Now, to see if some shoes fit you. Come and sit on this trunk; the other one is here next to it.'

She unlocked it and by the time he was sitting she had selected a pair of shoes which, he noticed, had heavy silver buckles already fitted. Half a dozen other pairs, which she had taken out and put down on the deck, also had the buckles fitted. The owner must be a wealthy man; most people transferred the buckles when they changed shoes.

'These fit comfortably.'

'They look rather large.'

'They'll be just right once I am wearing hose.'

'Of course,' she said, obviously irritated with herself for forgetting and moving Ramage to search through the first trunk. 'Well, have we forgotten anything else?'

'No, I'm now well equipped. Will you please thank the owner for the use of part of his wardrobe?'

'That won't be possible, so you can thank me. I'll leave you this cabin as a dressing room. I shall be next door. Perhaps you would knock when you've finished.'

With that she was gone, and he still had very little idea of what she looked like. A definite sense of humour - she was enjoying telling him nothing about the ownership of these clothes and she neatly evaded any hint that they belonged to a husband or a brother. A young man, he noted, glancing at the waistband of the breeches. Not her father nor an uncle. He examined the buttons on the jacket. They had a curious design carved into them - were they ebony? Anyway, not the usual number indicating one of the foot regiments, yet the sword he had seen in the second trunk was not a cavalryman's sword. Well, he had all day to find out more about her . . .

Breakfast brought the first crisis. Stafford lit the galley fire at the regular time noted by Southwick, sunrise, while Rossi searched everywhere for food for the passengers. Ramage and Orsini were planning to serve them with an elaborate meal to celebrate their release, and Aitken had already signalled that he had taken the Amethyst.

But no food. When an embarrassed Rossi reported that he could find only seamen's fare, Ramage realized that he would have to go below and ask 'Miss for now'. He had purposely remained under the halfdeck, out of sight from any other ships, because his Army garb was unmistakable and Southwick had never reported seeing anyone being exercised in such a uniform. He had intended meeting the passengers formally after they had breakfasted and the tables in the great cabin had been cleared.

By now daylight was penetrating below, making the lanternlight weak and yellow. The wind had not come up yet and he found the air below was still and stale, thick with the sooty smell of burning candlewicks.

He felt self-conscious in his strange uniform. The Calypsos were already dressed in their usual shirt and trousers - a bag on the raft (already hoisted on board out of sight) had been used as a travelling trunk by the seamen who, Ramage thought ruefully, had had more foresight than himself. He nodded to the men guarding the prisoners and knocked on her door, expecting to wait for a few minutes while she dressed. She would be hard put to try to hide her face now, he thought, but he had persuaded himself that the reason for the shawl over her head had been because she knew she was plain, and was enjoying the unexpected and brief flirtation with the captain of the frigate. She would have a long, horsy face, straight hair, a large bulbous nose that went red in cold weather, and a mouth with thin lips. She would smile readily, of course, in that eager-to-please way of an elderly woman's companion . . .

By now the door had opened and the face smiling at him was beautiful. It was as if he was standing within inches of a Lely portrait, the doorway being the frame. It would be called La Belle Inconnue.

'You should not stare,' the voice said.

'I'm not staring, I'm stunned,' Ramage said without feeling any connection between his voice and the words. 'Breakfast,' he added lamely.

'Oh, you are hungry? It's Mrs Donaldson's turn with me this morning. It takes about half an hour to prepare.'

Ramage pulled himself together and gave a brief bow. 'Ma'am, you -'

' "Took me unawares",' she supplied.

'- took me unawares,' Ramage repeated gratefully and grinned. 'I came to ask "Miss for now" where my men can find the food to prepare the passengers' breakfast.'

'In a "John Company" ship the passengers supply their own victuals.' She obviously enjoyed using such professional words. 'And dress visitors, too, when necessary,' she added mischievously. 'I'll collect Mrs Donaldson. I'm afraid your unexpected arrival has upset the routine we had to start when the pirates took all the crew ashore.'

'On shore,' he could not help teasing her. 'People go on shore; only ships go "ashore", usually accidentally.'

'Captain, you must give me lessons in the nautical language; it will be invaluable when I return to the land of drawing room chatter.'

And the devil of it was that he did not know if she was serious or teasing him. She smiled and walked past him along the corridor to tap on a door and call: 'Mrs Donaldson . . . it's our turn to prepare breakfast, and we have a guest.'