"You've all met?" Edwards asked. They had not and Edwards introduced them: Edward Teal of the Anita, a thin man of perhaps forty, sad-faced and probably embittered that it had taken him so many years to be made post, and John Banks of the Nereus, plump and red-faced, and four or five years older than Ramage, a man as cheerful as Teal was melancholy. Ramage then introduced Aitken.

 A Marine sentry hailed again and a third captain came on board and was introduced to Ramage. John Marden wore epaulets on both shoulders and, Ramage was told, had commanded the Wasp frigate in the West Indies for more than two years. Marden was barely five feet tall and lean, his face tanned and lined. His eyes were sharp and his ears curiously pointed, reminding Ramage of a pixie.

 Edwards took out his watch. "Twenty minutes to go. I trust you all have your commissions?" With that he led the way to his cabin and offered them tea.

 Precisely at eight o'clock another gun fired in the Invincible to signal the beginning of the trial and Captain Edwards led the way to the Admiral's great cabin. The long dining table had been put athwartships at the after end of the cabin with five chairs placed along one side, so that the captains would sit facing forwards, their backs to the big sternlights.

 A rotund, bespectacled man already sat at a chair at one end, a pile of papers, inkwell, pen and several books in front of him. Edwards introduced the Invincible's purser, Eric Gowers, who had been appointed deputy judge advocate.

 There were two rows of chairs at the forward end of the cabin - Ramage guessed they came from the wardroom and that the ship's officers would be eating their meals sitting on forms until the trial ended - with a single chair in front of the table ready for the witness. Between the table and the first row Of chairs was an open space: there the prisoners would stand, guarded by Marines and with the provost marshal to one side.

 As if to underline the fact that the Invincible was primarily a fighting ship, there were two guns on each side in the cabin, their train tackles neatly coiled, the barrels shining black and the carriages and trucks freshly painted. The gun ports were open to keep the cabin cool. Against the forward bulkhead there was a well-polished mahogany sideboard with a matching wine-cooler beside it, shaped like a Greek urn. Over the sideboard was an oil painting of a plump and pleasant-looking woman, probably the Admiral's wife. She looked amiable enough, Ramage noted.

 Edwards went to the centre chair at the after side of the table and sat down. In front of him was a small gavel, and he looked at the four captains. "We might as well begin. Please read your commissions - you start, " he said, gesturing to Marden.

 Ramage saw that Gowers, the deputy judge advocate, noted down the date of the commission: Marden had been made post six years ago. As soon as all the commissions had been read, establishing their seniority, Edwards told them to take their seats. Marden, as the senior, sat on Edwards's right, with Teal on his left, Banks beyond Marden and Ramage, as the junior, next to Teal, on Captain Edwards's extreme left.

 By now a Marine lieutenant had come into the cabin: he must be acting as the provost marshal (at an extra four shillings a day, Ramage thought inconsequentially).

 Edwards gestured towards Gowers. "Very well, we will make a start."

 The deputy judge advocate turned to the provost marshal. "Bring in the prisoners and all the witnesses. The prisoners first."

 Two Marines with drawn cutlasses marched into the cabin, the white pipeclay on their crossbelts a startling contrast to their polished black boots. Behind them, shuffling in single file, came four seamen, unshaven, their faces shiny with perspiration and their wrists in iron. Two more Marines followed.

 The Marine lieutenant walked round to line up the men in front of the table but Edwards, seeing the pistol in his hand, snapped: "We don't need pistols. Leave that thing outside! "

 As the provost marshal hurried out the seamen took up their positions and Ramage saw that none of them looked up at the five captains facing them. Mutineers? Perhaps, but they looked like any seamen chosen at random - or, for that matter, any four men picked off the streets of a country town on market day. The only difference was that they were frightened; awed and overwhelmed at finding themselves standing in an admiral's cabin, facing five captains, flanked by armed Marines, and on trial for their lives.

 Ramage rubbed a scar over his right eyebrow. He could imagine what each of the men was thinking. Each was trying to relate this moment with the time two years ago when a yelling horde of their shipmates seized the Jocasta and murdered the captain and officers. Had these men been terrified onlookers, active mutineers, or the men who had actually committed murders? And how was the court to discover the truth?

 Would one of the men stand as witness against the other three - turn "King's evidence" as it was usually called? Captain Edwards had just explained, over their cups of tea, that there seemed some doubt whether an offer could be made to a prisoner before the trial began - that he would be allowed a free pardon if he gave evidence against the other accused men. Edwards had roundly cursed the fact that there was no judge advocate in the fleet. He and the purser had read through the only available books on naval courts martial, and there was a reference to a famous judge saying that if a man was promised a reward for giving his evidence before he actually gave it, this "disables his testimony". All five captains knew of cases where one of the accused had "turned King's evidence" but none of them had been a member of the court when it happened. And Edwards, anxious that there should be no mistakes, had decided to wait and see how the trial proceeded.

 Finally the provost marshal was back, looking harassed but without his pistol, and followed by several officers, including Aitken. Only the Scot was a witness; the rest were onlookers. The moment they were all seated Edwards tapped the table gently with the gavel, obviously careful not to damage the polished wood.

 "The court is in session. Gowers, read the orders."

 The purser selected several sheets of paper, stood up, adjusted his spectacles and read out the Admiral's order for assembling the court martial.

 Devon, Ramage thought to himself; the purser is a Devon man. Shrewd, alert, probably a very competent purser. But, like the rest of the court, his knowledge of law extended no further than the pages of the two or three reference books in front of him - and upon whose pages the lives of these four men might well depend. Not even that, because the facts and points of law the books contained were only as relevant as the court's ability to find them ...

 Gowers finally read the warrant appointing him, put down the papers and picked up a Bible. He then walked round to the front of the table, stopping in front of Captain Edwards. He handed him a card as Edwards put his hand on the Bible. Edwards began reading the oath written on the card, and Ramage saw all four prisoners look up.

 "I, James Edwards, do swear that I will duly administer justice according to the Articles of War and orders established by an act passed in the twenty-second year of the reign of His Majesty King George II ... without partiality or favour or affection; and if any case shall arise which is not particularly mentioned in the said Articles and orders, I will duly administer justice according to my conscience, the best of my understanding, and the custom of the Navy in like cases ..."

 Gowers then administered the oath to the other captains in order of seniority, and then himself took an oath that he would never "disclose or discover the vote or opinion of any particular member of this court unless thereunto required by act of Parliament."