'So I'm beginning to find out, sir. But it's rather hard to meet a man for the first time and find he's an enemy.'

 'Well, you can console yourself it's a lot worse on shore here in Corsica with the vendetta: Romeo and Juliet - daggers at dead of night - quarrels between families handed down from father to son like an estate...'

 'That's just what I've inherited, it seems to me,' Ramage said bitterly.

'Don't be ridiculous! It's quite a different thing.'

 Ramage supposed there must be a difference, but for the moment it was hard to distinguish, except for the darkness. A stiletto between the shoulder blades was a more sophisticated weapon than the one Captain Croucher was using.

'Are you in love with this girl?'

 Ramage gave a start: Probus's voice sounded almost disinterested, and the question obviously wasn't meant offen­sively; rather as though he was turning an idea over in his mind.

Well, did he love her? Or had his protective instincts been aroused because she was in danger when they first met? Was he just fascinated by her beauty and her accent, which made English so musical - and sensual, too, for that matter? He simply hadn't thought of it in cold blood: it just happened: one didn't suddenly say 'I'm in love'. He'd known several girls in the past and never regarded them with more than affection, except for a married woman who'd - he felt himself go hot with embarrassment at the thought. Yet... now, at this very moment, he realized for the first time (admitted it, rather) that while she was in the ship - even after he'd stalked out of the cabin, ignoring her pleas - merely knowing she was near had been enough. When she'd gone away he became an empty shell, with no reason for existing, no reason - incentive was a better word - for doing anything. Was this love? It certainly wasn't the brash, almost crude feeling he'd felt for the married woman: that was just a lot of tingling below the sword belt and breathing hard above it. No, he felt utterly lost without her; restless and incomplete. But when she—

'You realize she's in love with you?' Probus said.

'With me?'

 'My dear fellow,' Probus exclaimed impatiently, 'are you blind?'

'No-but...'

 'The devil take the "buts". I don't know why I'm getting myself mixed up in your affairs; but do I have to draw a chart? You're in very deep water. Until a few minutes ago I wasn't too sure how much of Pisano's story was true: no smoke without fire, you know. But for the Marchesa, I'd have believed half of it, and I'll tell you why, although' - he held up his hand to stop Ramage interrupting - 'women are sometimes wrong in their judgement, and she wasn't on board the Sibella when you struck.

 'For me, the Sibella was the biggest question mark, of course. Suddenly finding yourself with the responsibility of a badly damaged ship and a lot of wounded men – it’s natural enough to do something hasty: something you regret later. But I've had time to size up that fellow Jackson - I shouldn't be telling you this, I suppose - and if he'll risk the noose round  his neck to save your reputation, then I'm prepared to believe you did the right thing in striking to the Barras.'

'Thank you, sir,' Ramage said lamely. 'It's not the Sibella episode that bothers me: it's the beach.'

 'Precisely: it did me, until I found the Marchesa wanting to believe you - but getting precious little help from you, I gather. That cousin really was dead?'

'Yes.'

 'Then why the bloody hell didn't you convince the girl? She says you won't explain anything. I suppose she thinks you are either a liar or too proud. You've only yourself to blame if she ends up listening to that bag of wind Pisano, haven't you, eh?'

 When Ramage made no reply, Probus appeared to lose his temper. 'Answer me, man!'

 'Well, sir, to begin with I was pretty shaken at being accused of not going back; then I got angry at being called a coward by Pisano - dammit, sir, he was so yellow he bolted for the beach without so much as ciao to Pitti. So - well, I felt they weren't worth wasting my breath on. Pisano's only accusing me of cowardice to cover himself.'

 'But you had one very important person prepared to believe any reasonable explanation you gave - and presumably testify on your behalf.'

'Oh? Who, sir?'

 'The Marchesa, you fool!' Probus made no effort to hide his exasperation.

 Ramage's head whined and perspiration soaked his clothes as the humiliating thought struck him like a dagger thrust that he had been so full of indignation, so puffed up with outraged pride and stung with injured innocence, that he hadn't sat down and used his brain.

 He realized now that Gianna had only wanted to hear from his own lips exactly what he'd seen when he went back: she only needed a few words of explanation and assurance from the stranger with whom she had - according to Probus anyway - fallen in love. Instead, he had just repeated like a pompous parrot that he had done his duty.

‘Y ou look as if you're going to pass out, Ramage. Here - sit down.'

 Probus stood up and pushed a chair across the deck. As Ramage sat down, Probus took a bottle and glasses from a rack .on the bulkhead.

 'This brandy's almost too good for a fool like you,' he said, handing Ramage a half-filled glass. After pouring himself out a drink he sat down in another chair and began tapping a finger nail against the glass, appearing to be absorbed in the bell-like note it made, then took a sip of brandy and gave an appreciative sigh.

Ramage took the opportunity of asking a question.

Why do you think Jackson's doing this for me, sir?'

 ‘How the devil should I know! Pisano acts like that because he's Pisano. Jackson's a seaman. You know a seaman's an odd customer - he'll lie and cheat and get fighting drunk at the sniff of a cork, but he's got one of the highest developed senses of justice on this earth: you've seen enough floggings to know that.

 'I always know when I'm flogging the right man - I just look at the faces of the ship's company. Although I'm flogging one of their messmates, if he's guilty, then they accept it. But if he's innocent, I know by their attitude. No murmurings, no mutterings; but I know.

 'I'd say that's how Jackson's mind has worked. He probably knows your father was a scapegoat. He's been around long enough to know the Ramage family have enemies. Once he knew they were bringing cowardice into the trial, he realized pretty quickly why he and the rest of the Sibellas were being shipped off to the Topaze. Quicker than me, incidentally,' Probus added.

Ramage said: 'All this makes me feel pretty humble. First you, then Jackson. I don't want to sound ungrateful or offend you, sir, but I'd rather you didn't get mixed up in this any further.'

'My dear fellow, I'm not going to! Already I feel quite ill, and soon after midnight I'll be far too sick to think of attending a court martial in the forenoon - as a certificate duly signed by the surgeon will inform the president of the court. Since there are six post captains among the ships here there'll be one more than the necessary five, so the trial can continue.'

'Thank you, sir.'

 'Don't thank me: I'm not helping you - I'm looking after myself. I don't propose running foul of Goddard, but I know far too much about the case to be able to sit as a member of the court. Since it’d be a trifle difficult to explain to the president of the court how I came by that knowledge, it's fortunate I now feel quite feverish and sick, and must take to my cot. So good night to you.'

'Jackson, sir?'

 'Leave him to me. Insolence, didn't I say? To me, not to you. You were a witness: the only witness. It happened - as far as I can remember - some time before I received the order to transfer him and the rest of the Sibellas to the Topaze. I must write a report for Captain Croucher. Oh yes,' he added absentmindedly, 'that reminds me. I've another letter to write, too.'