'Teniente. Francisco de Pareja at your service,' the officer said in good English.

'Lieutenant Ramage, of His Britannic Majesty's cutter Kathleen, at your service. I wish to speak with your captain.'

'Of course, Teniente. Please come this way. My captain asks me to tender his regrets that he speaks no English.'

'If you would be kind enough to translate,' Ramage said politely, 'I am sure we shall all understand each other perfectly.'

'Thank you. I am at your service.'

Without letting his eyes wander too obviously, Ramage saw the frigate's deck was indeed swept clean. The remains of the masts, like stumps of clumsily felled trees, were monuments to a fatal combination of a powerful squall and bad seamanship. But however long and strong the squall had blown it failed to remove the usual smell of boiled fish, stale cooking oil and garlic which permeated most Spanish ships, and there was a smell like a bonfire just put out by a rainstorm. Ah! Suddenly he realized why there was water running from the frigate's scuppers: some of the burning wreckage from the exploding boat had come on board and started several small fires ... He mentally noted that a few signal rockets and blue lights put on top of the powder next time might yield good dividends.

Waiting aft by the big double wheel, but deliberately looking away, stood a portly man of perhaps forty, resplendent in a uniform almost entirely covered in gold braid. The thick jowls hanging over the stock betrayed a professional gourmet. The pinkness of the face, the slackness of the mouth, protuberant belly, shifting and watery eyes that could not refuse food ... Ramage guessed the Spanish captain regarded his cook as the most important member of the ship's company.

Deep bows, exchange of names - the portly man was Don Andreas Marmion - more bows, and both Ramage and Marmion turned to Pareja, waiting for the other to begin. Suddenly Ramage realized he had a chance of seizing the initiative and announced with all the confidence of a man stating something obvious and indisputable:

'I have come to make arrangements for passing the tow.'

Pareja paused for several seconds, then prefaced his translation into Spanish with an apologetic, 'I am afraid the Englishman says ...'

Ramage watched the captain's face. The pink turned red and, as the neck swelled, deepened to purple, and he replied in an abusive torrent of Spanish which Pareja translated as tactfully as he could, 'My captain says you can't tow us and anyway you are his prisoner and he will send your ship to Cartagena for assistance.'

Since Ramage had understood even before Pareja spoke, he looked Marmion straight in the face, his eyebrows a straight line, hard put to stop rubbing the scar, and answered.

'You are under a misapprehension. Apart from the fact I boarded under a flag of truce, this ship is our prize. You obey our orders. The tow is prepared and will be passed to you as soon as I return to the cutter.'

Pareja waited, but Ramage's expression was cold and formal and the Spaniard was frightened by the deep-set brown eyes. 'Translate that. I haven't finished yet, but I do not want any misunderstanding.'

Like a dog on a leash, Marmion took half a dozen paces one way and half a dozen paces the other as Pareja translated. Suddenly he stopped and snapped a few phrases, emphasizing some of them with a petulant and rather comical stamping of his foot, but avoiding looking at Ramage as he spoke.

Pareja said lamely: 'My captain says it is ridiculous; you have a tiny ship; you cannot possibly take a big frigate like this as a prize. But he respects the flag of truce and grants you permission to continue your voyage.'

Ramage tensed. This moment was the climax; instead of a battle of broadsides, it was a swift battle of wills. So far he'd kept the initiative; now, faced with a flat refusal, he was on the verge of losing it. Yet Marmion had avoided his eyes, and Pareja was doing his best as he translated to soften both Ramage's and Marmion's phrases, as if he felt Ramage still had some trump card. Then Ramage guessed the reason for Marmion's attitude - pride. It was as simple - and as complicated - as that. Marmion could see how Spain would receive the news that La Sabinahad surrendered to a tiny cutter. He'd be disgraced among his brother officers; a laughing stock. And Ramage knew he now had to give Marmion a way out: a way of backing down gracefully, an excuse acceptable to the Spanish Ministry of Marine.

'Tell your captain,' he said, 'that he is in an unfortunate situation. His ship is absolutely helpless and he cannot make repairs. He has only one boat - insufficient to tow the ship round to aim a broadside. All of this will be made clear in our report. His ship is at the mercy of any enemy - whether a three-decker, a cutter, or a dozen Barbary pirates - and the four winds. He has limited food and water and little sea room. If a northerly wind blows for a couple of days his ship will end up on the beaches over there' - he gestured towards the African coast - 'and he and his ship's company will end their days as slaves rowing in Barbary galleys ...'

Pareja translated but Marmion argued violently. As soon as Pareja finished translating Ramage, knowing this was the moment for the real threat, said harshly:

'Tell your captain he knows as well as I do that we can destroy his ship, smash it into driftwood. And we cannot be expected to take nearly three hundred men on board as prisoners - even if they survived the explosion.'

'What explosion?' Pareja asked, after translating and getting Marmion's reply. 'My captain says you cannot destroy us, and it is only a matter of time before our fleet finds us. We have plenty of provisions, and the weather is good.'

'Your own fleet,' Ramage said, taking a chance, 'is not within three hundred miles and won't come this way. And we can destroy you. You saw the explosion boat.'

'But the boat exploded fifty yards away! We were not damaged in the slightest!'

'It exploded fifty yards away because we intended it to: you saw how we manoeuvred. We were simply showing you how easy it would be to tow a second boat and place it under your stern. We are in agreement, are we not, that such an explosion would remove your stern? Surely you don't dispute that? And a second boat would also carry a considerable amount of incendiary material...'

As soon as Pareja related this, Marmion swung on his heel and began to walk to the companionway to go below.

Ramage felt himself going cold at this insult and snapped: 'Tell him to come back here at once. He is my prisoner, and I've seen no reason so far to show him any more mercy than he'd receive from the galleys!'

Pareja obviously sensed this was no idle threat and hurried after Marmion, repeating Ramage's words in a low voice. He then beckoned to Ramage, who ignored him and Pareja came back.

'My captain wishes to continue the conversation in his cabin.'

'Your captain will continue the conversation on board the cutter. He has five minutes to pack a bag. In the meantime your first lieutenant and I will discuss the details of towing.' Once again Pareja went back to Marmion and reported Ramage's words. The captain went below and Pareja told Ramage:

'He agrees under protest and only to save the lives of the ship's company. He regards an explosion boat as a barbarous and dishonourable method of waging war and unprecedented in history. He says that in the face of such barbarity it is his duty to protect his men.'

'Very well,' said Ramage. 'Now, you are the first lieutenant? Very well, these are your orders for the tow.'

As Marmion followed him on board the Kathleen, Ramage was pleased to see that in his absence Southwick had been busy. He'd changed into his best uniform and the rest of the ship's company were neatly dressed and, apart from those standing to attention at their carronades, drawn up on the quarterdeck. There was no sign of a wounded man nor a trace of blood. Every rope was neatly coiled; match and sponge tubs were spaced at geometrically precise intervals with sponges and rammers in their racks.