Nelson had been glancing at the notes, cocking his head to one side as he held the paper to catch more light from a lantern. He looked straight at Ramage and said quietly: 'I have asked all my officers, at one time or another, a simple question. Now you know as much about the French preparations as anyone on this side of the Channel, I'm going to ask you.'

Ramage, remembering the Admiral's questions at the Admiralty and guessing he had a very good reason for asking more now, noticed that all the other officers were now watching him closely, and there seemed to be a vague tension in the room. No, not tension exactly; perhaps a quickening of interest, as though they were waiting for him to read out the number of a winning lottery ticket.

'Take your time in answering,' Nelson said, 'and make all the qualifications you want. Now, if you were Bonaparte, where would you land your Army?'

Ramage grinned and thumbed through his notes until he found the page on which he had written down his own invasion notes. 'I'd favour Romney Marsh, sir; along about seven miles of the coast between Dymchurch and Dungeness.'

He noticed that four or five of the officers had looked away when he mentioned Romney Marsh, but three others had walked to the chart on the table. Three captains, he noted, all with less than three years' seniority since they wore epaulets only on the right shoulder.

Nelson, looking at Ramage, gestured at them. 'You've pleased my Marsh Men but disappointed my two Pevensey Level Loyalists - they favour a spot between Bexhill and Eastbourne - and my two Maplin Sands Stalwarts, who think Boney will favour the Essex side of the Thames Estuary.'

'And you, sir?' Ramage asked nervously. 'Might one ask . . .?'

'I'm not a betting man, Ramage; I hope my young men can pick the winners. Now let me look at those notes of yours.'

Ramage gave him the paper and as Nelson took it he said to one of the three captains, 'Carry on, Lacey; I know you have some questions for him!'

Captain Lacey, the meek and mild looking man with the surprisingly Satanic grin, gave a slight bow and then turned to Ramage. 'You know the Kentish coast well?'

‘The landward side, sir. I spent some time on the Marsh when I was a small boy - an uncle lives at Aldington, overlooking the whole area. He also owns a farm or two round Old Romney and some land out on the 'Ness.'

'How many acres altogether?'

'A few hundred, I believe.' Since none of the officers seemed to be from land-owning families, Ramage guessed it was not the time or place to say that the total was counted in thousands and that his uncle - his mother's brother - was one of the biggest landowners in the county, a man reputed locally to graze more sheep than the King fed soldiers.

'Is that why you favour the Marsh?'

'Hardly, sir; my uncle would be one of the first the French strapped to the guillotine - if they caught him alive!'

The Admiral slid Ramage's notes across the table. 'Look at that Lacey; we have a budding Marshal Soult here.'

Lacey read quickly and grunted when he came to the end. 'Good point about Johnny Frenchman steering his barges for the southernmost point of land, Dungeness itself. Have to keep it a bit to larboard if he's landing on the east side,' he added, as though thinking aloud, 'then on the flood tide the current would set him nicely into the bay.'

Another of the captains - Ramage recognized him as one of the Pevensey Level Loyalists - said evenly, 'A special case can be made out for almost any suitable stretch of coast, sir, be it in Sussex, Kent or Essex.'

'Quite so,' the Admiral said, 'and that's why you've been here with me all day. By the way, Ramage, we spent the morning in discussions with our military friends, getting the benefit of their views and giving them the benefit of ours -' he paused as Captain Lacey gave a derisive snort, 'even if they listened with less patience than we did. I told them that we intended - if humanly possible - to destroy the French at sea. I had the impression the soldiers regarded us as rather unsporting - wanting to shoot their bird, as it were.'

‘They'd miss it anyway,' Lacey said crossly. 'If the French don't land at Shorncliffe Camp, I can't see how the Army'd march in time enough to find 'em.'

'Have the soldiers any ideas on suitable landing places, sir?' Ramage ventured.

Again Captain Lacey snorted while Lord Nelson permitted himself a wry smile. 'We have the impression they were catholic in their choice. Anywhere from Essex to Hampshire, although they didn't rule out Suffolk, the Isle of Wight, Hampshire or even Dorset, though I presume they mentioned that out of deference to Captain Lacey, who is as stout a champion of the county of Dorset as any man alive.'

‘They rule out Norfolk then, sir,' Ramage said with exaggerated innocence.

Nelson laughed and slapped the table with his hand and when he spoke his Norfolk accent was more pronounced. 'Yes, though I'm not sure whether they think Bonaparte fears the men of Norfolk would toss him into the sea or whether he can't be bothered with them!'

'One night, just one night,' Lacey said crossly. 'If only those soldiers would get it into their heads that the French have to cross the Channel under cover of darkness. Eight hours at the most. That limits where they can land. Any wind that pushes those barges along at more than five knots will kick up too much sea for them to land, so that limits them to forty miles from Calais and Boulogne.'

'Don't forget Dunkirk and Ostend,' murmured one of the Maplin Sands Stalwarts. Two separate landings, you know, with the Dutch Fleet covering them. Just a token force from Boulogne and Calais to land on Romney Marsh, but the main force from Ostend and Dunkirk to tackle the Essex coast. Shortest route to London, by Jove; even the soldiers admit that.'

'We won't go into all that again,' Nelson said impatiently. 'Well, gentlemen, that completes our business for today. You've heard what the soldiers think; I've had the benefit of your views on the suitability - from the French point of view - of the stretches of coast you are patrolling; and we've all heard what a newcomer to the Squadron thinks.' As if realizing the ambiguity of the remark he turned to Ramage and added: 'Your reasoning is good. I find it most stimulating to hear the views of imaginative and practical young men. It makes sure I don't overlook anything.'

'Not much chance of that, sir,' Captain Lacey said, his voice betraying both disappointment and irritation. 'I don't think any of us have said anything you haven't already thought about.'

Ramage knew that Lacey was not a flatterer; his comment probably expressed a genuine fear that some possibility might still have been overlooked. A moment later the Admiral made the same point. 'I don't want any of you to relax just because I've held this discussion. Your views may be modified later as a result of hearing other men's opinions, and you might develop new ideas. If so, I want to hear them in good time: my flagship is anchored in the Downs, as well you know. Very well, I bid you all good night. Ramage, stay behind: I still have some matters to discuss with you.'

As soon as the other officers left, the Admiral said briskly: Tell me how you are going to get to France.'

'I haven't had time to find a way, sir,' Ramage said apologetically. Then, worried that Lord Nelson might have forgotten that he had arrived in Dover only an hour earlier, he added: 'But I'll be in Boulogne within twenty-four hours.'

'I'm less concerned about how and when you get there than about the arrangements you make for getting information back to me.'

'Exactly, sir,' Ramage said quickly. 'That was what made me rule out getting on shore from one of our own ships -'

'I can't see Bonaparte sending out a frigate to fetch you,' Nelson interrupted.