Stafford, Rossi and the Frenchmen hurried up on to the quarterdeck carrying the heavy cast-iron braziers used in cold climates to dry out damp between decks after the planking had been well scrubbed or there had been a long period of wet weather.

They had taken several handsful of twigs from the cook's supply of kindling, used for the galley stove, along with sawn wood, and quickly set up the braziers, watched by a fussy Southwick. The master looked ahead at the French frigate, now fine on the starboard bow, and then questioningly at Ramage, who said: "Get the kindling started, and then wait. . ."

Stafford found some small twigs which still had dried leaves attached, made them into a little nest in one of the braziers, and then went over to one of the tubs and took a length of glowing slowmatch from its notch.

He came back to the brazier, put the burning end of the slowmatch amid the leaves, and blew gently until first one and then two or three of the other leaves burst into flame. Soon, feeding the flames with larger twigs, he finally used sawn up pieces of wood that had obviously come from Chatham Dockyard.

"Pity it's not a cold day," Stafford commented.

"Be careful, Staff," Gilbert said, eyeing the flannel cartridge cases stacked up under the taffrail.

The Cockney, coughing from the woodsmoke, laughed. "Not used to the sight of flames, are you Gilbert? Don't be nervous - think what it must be like over there!" He gestured towards the flickering guns of the Santissima Trinidad and her attackers.

"She's not so near," Gilbert said, cautiously taking one of the burning pieces of wood and transferring it to another brazier and feeding it with wood. He was followed by Rossi and Auguste, and finally Louis lit the last of the braziers, until all five were flickering on the quarterdeck.

Southwick walked over to Ramage. "I was thinking, sir, if an unlucky roundshot knocks over those braziers ..."

"We shall probably blow up," Ramage said matter-of-factly. "It's a risk I decided to take. You have plenty of buckets of water and the tubs, and you'll keep the deck well sluiced down."

Southwick nodded. "Thought I'd better mention it, sir."

"Oh, indeed," Ramage said. "No point in remembering as the ship blows up. Don't forget to wet the powder ..."

Southwick laughed cheerfully. "You'll be the first to hear if I forget, sir," he said.

Jackson walked across the deck to join his shipmates. "Warm work," he commented.

"Yus," Stafford said, "but it'll soon be 'ot work! Is that the frigate we're after?" he gestured over the starboard bow.

The American nodded. "The one that looks like us. Like us without the yellow strake."

"Bit more our size," Stafford grunted. "I didn't fancy that 74 that was chasing us off Cadiz ..."

"No shoals out here though; this has to be a guns, pikes, cutlasses and tomahawks job," Jackson said. "That's if you don't blow us all up with these braziers."

"If you hear a big bang, you'll know I did it wrong," Stafford said complacently.

"Not to joke," Auguste said anxiously. "Is bad luck to joke about such things."

"I'm not joking," Stafford assured him. "If Jacko hears a bang ..."

Ramage was judging distances and giving Aitken helm orders. The French frigate was sailing along on a course parallel with the enemy's line of battle and roughly a mile to leeward. A mile or more ahead of her was another frigate, and well astern and scattered were three more, along with two brigs.

"She hasn't realized yet," Aitken commented.

"Her people are too taken up with what's happening to the Redoutable and the Santissima Trinidad," Ramage said. "Don't forget, 'frigates don't stand in the line of battle'!"

"Ah, yes, I'd forgotten, sir," Aitken said dryly.

Even though the wind was light the Calypso, with a clean bottom, was sailing too fast for the French frigate, which was jogging along under topsails only, obviously not trying to keep in any particular position with the line of battle.

"We'll clew up the courses, Mr Aitken," Ramage said briskly. The Scotsman picked up the speaking trumpet and gave the order that sent men running to the buntlines and clewlines. Quickly the corners of the big lower sails were drawn in diagonally towards the masts and then the middles of the sails were hauled upwards, until the great sails looked like bundled laundry.

Ramage walked to the side and peered down at the sea from a gunport, and then he looked ahead again. "We'll hand the topgallants, too, Mr Aitken," he said, and the moment the first lieutenant shouted the orders, topmen swarmed up the shrouds and out along the yards, folding the sails and securing them against the yards with gaskets. They were doing it as thoroughly, Ramage noted, as they would a "harbour furl", where a sharp-eyed port admiral would be ready with criticisms.

So now the Calypso was reduced to topsails - what was generally regarded as "fighting canvas", although none of Nelson's ships of the line, hurrying because of the falling wind, had reduced sail: like Nelson, they were content to let enemy shot do the furling for them.

Ramage watched the French frigate carefully. If the captain was awake, then the Calypso's shortening sail should alert him. Frigates did not suddenly reduce sail in the middle of a battle without a reason. Come to that, frigates did not suddenly break through the line.

Yes, the French frigate was certainly at general quarters, with her guns run out, as of course they should be, and obviously loaded with roundshot or grape. But she seemed strangely uninterested in the Calypso - a sister ship, too, that a moment's thought should remind someone on board had been captured by the British . . .

At that moment a particularly large swell wave made the frigate yaw, and Ramage could at last read the name carved on her transom. Le Hasard. Green lettering - which had made it so hard to read - picked out with red. No gilt. The captain had obviously made do with what the dockyard had issued.

He told Aitken the name, but the Scotsman merely said: "She'll get a new name in the British service!"

Half a mile, and one point on the starboard bow.

At that moment Aitken pointed astern. The look on the first lieutenant's face made Ramage turn quickly.

The French Neptune, ship of the line, had turned to the north and was now getting into the Calypso's wake, perhaps three quarters of a mile astern. Was it a coincidence or was she coming after the Calypso?

That did not matter much, Ramage realized immediately: the moment the Calypso opened fire on the frigate, the Neptune would come up on the other side and pour in broadsides: that was unavoidable. Something, as Nelson had written, must be left to chance - and he had left the ship of the line astern to chance . . .

Well, he could forget all about the attack and sneak back through the line of battle and take up the position he should never have left. He could, but having made all these preparations he was not going to.

Or he could try to race the Neptune and get alongside Le Hasard, perhaps overwhelming her before the Neptune could catch up. But even if he took the Hasard, the Neptune would be alongside moments later, and a ship of the line's broadside . . .

He had avoided Le Brave's broadsides by guile; there was no way of avoiding the Neptune's.

He realized that he could keep the bluff he was going to use on the Hasard and try it on the Neptune. But it was only bluff; it was not a magic suit of armour that would keep out the Neptune's roundshot. But, he shrugged his shoulders, it was the only trick he could play.

Five hundred yards to the Hasard. "Stand by guns' crews and grapnel men," he said to Aitken, raising his voice against the rumbling broadsides. It was annoying to have to use the Scotsman to relay every order, but Ramage had long since realized that his voice did not carry.