With the exception of Southwick, they all crept to the taffrail, bent double, and grouped themselves on either side of the port.

The Master began carrying out Ramage's orders, calling in a loud voice, 'Forward lookouts - anything to report from ahead?'

'Nothin' to larboard sir,' came back one voice, followed by 'Nuthin' to starboard, neither, sir.'

'Very well. Keep a sharp lookout'

The normal hails made every ten or fifteen minutes; nothing to indicate to the Spaniards that they had been spotted.

'How are you heading, quartermaster,' Southwick asked in a quieter conversational voice.

'Due west, sir.'

'Very well.'

Ramage glanced out of the port. The thick cable now had men swarming along it, like monkeys on the bough of a tree. The nearest man was fifteen yards away.

'Mr. Southwick,' he whispered, 'show yourself above the taffrail. Just glance over the stern but don't stare at the Dons. When you know they've seen you, just walk about as though you haven't seen them.'

As soon as Southwick began pacing the deck again, his orders completed, Ramage whispered, 'Ask the lookouts how the headsails are setting.'

The Master hailed, and a puzzled lookout answered they were setting well enough. Again the normal shouts and replies which would reassure the Spaniards that they hadn't been spotted - and perhaps make them over-confident.

'Quartermaster,' hissed Ramage, 'luff up for a moment so your leeches flutter. Mr. Southwick, curse him as soon as they do.'

The tiller creaked and from ahead the headsails flapped, while overhead the mainboom swung inboard a foot as the pressure of the wind eased, and then went back with a bang.

Southwick swore violently and Ramage peered through the port. The Spaniards hanging under the cable had stopped crawling, but as he watched they began again. The flap of sails and the resultant cursing from the officer of the watch was an international language.

Fifteen feet to go. Ramage saw the dull gleam of metal in the darkness - a knife or cutlass. Each Spaniard would have to sit astride the cable for a moment and grasp the edge of the port before coming through because it was only just a little wider than his shoulders, partly blocked by the cable itself and the rope keckling wrapped round it to prevent chafe.

Ramage indicated to Jackson that he would deal with the first man but the American must catch the body as it fell. Southwick was standing still, and Ramage whispered, 'Mr. Southwick, walk around a few paces, then stand a couple of yards ahead of this port and act as the live bait.'

Ramage saw the first Spaniard was a slim, agile man, climbing easily and being careful not to get out of breath.

Twelve feet ... nine ... The man paused to let go with one hand and transfer a knife from his belt to his teeth. Six feet ... five ... Ramage, sure the Spaniard would hear his heart beating, gripped the belaying pin.

Three feet ... one foot ... The Spaniard swung himself up astride the cable, gripping it with his legs, and reaching out with his hands for the sides of the port. Ramage could just see him, and suddenly realized it was Pareja. He prayed the lieutenant would not first poke his head through the port to peer to his immediate left or right, but instead crawl straight through and make for Southwick who, from his stance and the night glass glinting under his arm, was clearly the officer on watch. The men following would be much less careful because as far as they were concerned the coast would be clear.

Pareja was so quick, coming through the port like a snake, that Ramage was only just in time to hit him. Jackson caught him as he fell and pulled him to one side and left Appleby to get him to the companionway. They all waited for the next man, who could suspect nothing. He was through in a moment and Antonio's blow sent him sprawling into Evans's arms.

Jackson was ready again to catch the third man as Ramage hit him. The fourth, fifth and sixth men followed at close intervals and ended up unconscious. Not one groaned. The seventh man's knife fell with a clatter, but the eighth took no notice.

As soon as the twelfth man had fallen to Antonio's belaying pin Ramage glanced through the port and saw there were three more to come. He motioned to Antonio to go below - the first victim should be fit for interrogation by now.

The thirteenth and fourteenth men were also knocked unconscious, then Ramage motioned to Jackson to take up his position for securing the fifteenth and last man, who was heavily built, the biggest and the clumsiest of them all. He had to struggle through the port and in a moment Jackson's hands were round his throat while Ramage tried to pinion his arms and Evans grabbed him round the legs.

But the man was too strong for Ramage who, realizing that in a moment he would break free and tear Jackson's hands from his throat, jerked his knee into the man's groin, and he collapsed groaning. Ramage bent down, drew the knife from the sheath in his boot, and held the blade an inch from the man's face.

'Look!' he hissed in Spanish. 'If you shout, you will die.'

The man mixed a few words of prayer with his groans.

'Drag him clear of the port,' Ramage ordered, keeping his knife in position as Evans pulled the man's legs.

'Now,' Ramage continued in Spanish, 'tell me the signal you are to make when you have captured the ship.'

'Never!'

'The other man also has a knife,' said Ramage harshly. 'He will use it. When he has finished, you will no longer be a man.'

Ramage, almost laughing at the melodrama in his voice, told Jackson, 'Rip his belt open; I've threatened to emasculate him.'

The Spaniard's eyes were wide open and there was enough light to show the terror in them as he stared up at Ramage, gasping and reeking of garlic. Jackson sat astride the man's stomach, facing his feet.

'I count ten,' Ramage said in Spanish. 'If you haven't told me by then - pouf! Now, uno, dos, tres...'

He counted slowly. At seven the Spaniard begin to wriggle his hips, and Ramage tapped Jackson on the shoulder. The American ripped at the man's trousers.

lOcho... neuve...'

'Senor – I telL'

‘Tell, then!'

'We had to show two lanterns - that was alL'

'If you lie...'

'No, no, senor - I swear that was all! Two lanterns, one on each quarter, and leave them there.'

'All right. You go below without a noise. Remember...'

'Yes, yes, senor!'

'Get him below,' Ramage snapped, and Evans dragged the man by the feet diagonally across the open companionway and then let go, so he slid down below head first.

'Jackson - two lanterns, quickly. Light fresh ones - don't leave 'em in the dark below. Mr. Southwick, get down there and sort out the prisoners.'

Suddenly he remembered more men may have been left in the boat, but a quick look round showed it was empty. Should he make a noise to show the frigate there had been a struggle? No - men with knives in their backs died quietly.

Antonio was beside him.

'The signal the ship is captured is two white lights!'

'Good - that's what my man said.'

'And as soon as the frigate removes the upper of the three lights she's showing,' Antonio continued, 'we alter course to the north-west.'

'Good for you,' Ramage said ruefully, 'I forgot to ask that!'

'My man was only too anxious to talk,' Antonio said.

'What did you do to him?'

'Nothing - I merely threatened this.' Antonio made an unambiguous gesture. 'And you?'

'The same.'

'It never fails.'

'Apparently not,' Ramage said dryly, 'though it's the first time I've tried it.'

'And me, but - well, how would you like it if...’

'Please!' Ramage said hurriedly, it's bad enough threatening someone else!'

As soon as the lanterns were in position, the course altered and the frigate signalled, and some seamen had gone down the cable to retrieve the Spanish boat, Ramage went below to Marmion's cabin and without any preliminaries demanded, 'You knew this attempt would be made?'