Croucher told Pisano he could stand down, and then had to explain what the phrase meant.

 Then Croucher looked straight at Ramage: there was a look of triumph in his face, and he said, 'The prisoner will make his defence.'

 Ramage was just about to speak when Croucher said testily, ‘Haven't you written out your defence? Don't say we have to waste time while you dictate it to the Deputy Judge Advocate? Surely you know by now you should read it and give him a copy?'

'If you will allow me, sir...'

‘Well, go on then!'

 'Regarding the loss of the Sibella, I do not feel it necessary to re-call the Bosun and the Carpenter's Mate to give evidence on my behalf: the evidence they have already given in support of the charge makes it clear I did the only thing possible in the circumstances.'

'That is for the court to decide,' commented Croucher.

 Was it worth calling Jackson? What could he add? Ramage decided he would not bother. Instead he said:

 'Of course, sir. But Count Pisano's evidence introduces another aspect of the case not referred to in the charge, and I wish to call one witness in my defence.'

He paused deliberately, knowing Croucher expected him to call Jackson, and waiting for him to get impatient.

'Well, name the witness, then!'

'Call the Marchesa di Volterra.'

 Barrow hurriedly whipped off his spectacles and Croucher banged the table to stop the Marine sentry opening the door and repeating Ramage's words outside.

'You cannot call the Marchesa.'

‘Why not, sir?'

Croucher waved a piece of paper. 'She's not on your own list of witnesses.'

 'But the court has already decided it has the authority to call a witness not listed.'

'The court, yes: but not a prisoner.'

 Ramage glanced at Barrow and saw he had stopped writing and was watching Croucher.

‘With all due respect, sir, I think this should be recorded in the minutes. I have asked for only one witness. Am I to under­stand the court refuses to call her?'

 'You understand correctly, Mr Ramage. The Judge Advo­cate General ruled that a person could be called if the court thought that person "capable of giving material testimony". The Marchesa has already told us all she knows; indeed, you insisted her words should be entered in the minutes. The court does not think she can add any further "material testimony" to what she has already said.'

 Ramage rubbed the scar over his forehead. The noose was round his neck now: he'd placed it there himself, and now Croucher was hauling in the slack.

 In writing, set down in the minutes, Croucher's decision would sound reasonable enough... if only he'd - oh, the devil with it.

'Very well, sir, I would like to call a witness who is on my list. Thomas Jackson.'

Any port in a storm, he thought.

 'Carry on, Barrow,' said Croucher smoothly. 'Call the wit­ness.'

 When Jackson came into the cabin Ramage felt less lonely; yet he knew his anchors were dragging. The court would pass a verdict involving cowardice, and anyone reading the minutes would agree with the sentence.

 The American was smartly dressed: he would have made a favourable impression on an unprejudiced court. Taking the oath and answering Barrow's routine questions, he spoke in a clear voice which had only a slight American accent.

 Ramage felt a twinge of conscience as he remembered the American had deliberately made Probus arrest him so that he  could be available as a witness, and only a few moments ago Ramage had decided not to call him...

'You may begin your interrogatories,' Croucher told him.

 'Thank you, sir,' said Ramage automatically - for a moment his mind had been a complete blank. The Sibella - yes, he'd fill in a few blanks there.

 'After Captain Letts had been killed, when did you first see me on deck?'

 'As soon as you dragged yourself up, sir.' ‘Dragged?' repeated Ferris.

'Yes, sir: he was very dazed and bleeding from his wound.'

 ‘From then until we left the ship, for how long were you not at my side?'

'Only a few minutes, sir.'

 'What instructions did I give you prior to leaving the ship?'

 'Several, sir, but you told me to get the charts and logs, and I helped you find the Captain's order book and letter book.'

 'If you had been left the senior surviving rating, what steps would you have taken to keep the ship afloat?'

Would Croucher allow that?

'There were no steps that could be taken, sir: she was sink­ing too fast'

Good: he'd try another one.

'If you had been in command, how would you have safeguarded the wounded?'

'I don't know, sir,' Jackson said frankly. 'The way you did it was the best, but I'd never have thought of it'

 'Now, the night we took off the Marchesa di Volterra and Count Pisano: will you describe what happened from the time we first heard them approaching us?'

'Yes, sir. Well—'

 At that moment the door of the cabin rattled violently as someone knocked on the framework. It was an urgent knock; a knock intended to warn Captain Croucher the reason for the interruption was important.

'Give way, there! Come in!' roared Croucher.

 A lieutenant hurried up to the table and handed Croucher a note. He might, for the look of anger spreading over Croucher's face, have just cheated him out of five years' prize money.

'The court is adjourned indefinitely,' he announced. 'Bar­row, inform the witnesses accordingly. You are freed from arrest,' he told Ramage. 'Of course you must hold yourself ready for when the court meets again,' he added hastily, as if realizing he was revealing his anger a little too openly.

At that moment the dull boom of a single gun echoed across the anchorage - from seaward, Ramage noted.

RAMAGE hurried from the cabin before the captains could get round the table, walked on to the quarter-deck and looked over the side. About a mile offshore a line-of-battle ship was beating into the anchorage, all plain sail set and her bows a flurry of spray. A commodore's broad pendant flew from her mainmast and she was flying a Union flag from the mizen top-masthead: the signal for all captains to come on board. The Commodore isn't wasting any time, Ramage thought.

Was Gianna still on board the Trumpeter? A lieutenant, telescope to his eye, was standing by the mizenmast and Ramage called:

'Has the Marchesa gone on shore?'

The lieutenant lowered his telescope in surprise.

'Oh - er, no: she's waiting in the clerk's office.'

 Ramage ran back towards Croucher's cabin, from which members of the court were now emerging. The clerk's cabin was a tiny box forward of the Captain's accommodation, and in a moment he was flinging the door open.

She glanced up in alarm: she was sitting in the only chair, her hands clasped together.

'Nicholas!'

'I thought you'd gone!'

'No - they wanted me to but...' .

'But what?'

A silly question, but there was too much unexplained for them to be other than shy.

'But -1 wanted to wait until it's all over. Is it?'

 He held her hands and looked down at her: the eyes were questioning, worried, beautiful.

'For the time being.'

‘What happened?'

'Commodore Nelson's arriving. Come and watch.'

'Commodore Nelson! The little captain!'

‘Yes - you know him?'

‘No - but in Livorno they spoke of no one else. He is a friend of yours?'

'No - I've never met him.'

 'A pity,' she said, standing up. 'If he was, he would help you and make everything all right.'

'I need someone—' he stopped.

'Someone?' she prompted, standing very close, looking up at him.

'—someone about as tall as him but much more interesting.'