As the officer walked towards the captain's cabin Jackson whispered: 'Guessed as much: now we just swear we were pressed from neutral ships and forced to serve.'

"What good will that do?' said Ramage. 'They'll just press us into their service.'

'May not. If they do, it'll be easier to escape from a Spanish ship in port than from a Spanish prison. But we start off claiming our freedom as neutral subjects.'

'Yus,' said one of the others, Will Stafford, whose Cockney accent belied the entry 'America' in the 'Where born' column in the muster book. The entry had probably been made in deference to the fact he had purchased a Protection.

'Yus,' Stafford said almost to himself, 'we must 'ave our rights: we 'adn't oughta bin pressed in the fust plice. Free men we are.' He sucked his teeth, as if appreciating his own declaration of independence, and added 'and that goes fer Nick 'ere, too.'

The rest of the men giggled self-consciously, but Jackson hissed at them, 'For God's sake don't forget it, lads; he is Nick to us now!'

The Spanish officer came back with the captain, a tall, slim young man with black, carefully combed curly hair. Ramage guessed that while his friends called his features aquiline, his enemies said he had a hatchet face.

The man stopped a few paces away, looked them up and down as though they were cattle in a market, and said in perfect English, 'So - men who are traitors to five different countries!'

Jackson quickly asked: 'How so, sir?'

'None of you is English?'

'No, sir.'

'Then by fighting for the English, you betray your own country.'

'We had no choice, sir!' Jackson said so indignantly Ramage knew he'd be believed.

'Why?'

'We was just kidnapped out of our own ships by the English. We had to serve - they'd have hanged us if we didn't.'

'Is that true?' he asked Ramage.

'Aye, sir. These English just come on board, take off the men they want - the best, usually - and that's that.'

'You are American?'

'Aye, sir.'

'But you have a Protection, no?'

'Yes, and I showed it to the officers, but they don't take any notice.'

'But you can insist.'

'S'no good, sir: we all did at one time or another. The only way you can get released is to get on shore somehow and find an American Consul who'll lodge a complaint. Then they have to free you.'

'Why did you not do that?'

Ramage gave what he hoped sounded like a respectfully cynical laugh. 'Never given a chance of going on shore in port, sir. I've been allowed on dry land only twice in two years an' that was for wooding and watering.'

'Wooding and watering?'

'Aye, sir: cutting wood for the cook's boilers, and filling water casks. Always in lonely places.'

'Of course, I understand. Well now, I am sure all of you wish to enter the service of His Most Catholic Majesty?'

'Who?' asked Jackson, with such surprise in his voice it obviously was not feigned.

'My Master, the King of Spain.'

'Well, thank you very much, sir,' Jackson said, 'but we'd all much rather be allowed to go home.'

'Very well,' the Spaniard snapped, annoyed at having lost the chance of getting eight prime seamen. 'You'll be transferred to the flagship. You may eventually wish you'd decided to serve with me.'

With that he went below, leaving Ramage wondering whether it was an idle remark made in a fit of pique or if anything else lay behind the words.

The Spanish admiral sat at his desk in the great cabin and looked closely at Ramage and Jackson. He turned and spoke rapidly to the translator who said,

'His Excellency wishes to know when you last saw British ships of war?'

'Two weeks ago,' said Ramage.

'Where?'

'Off Cape Corse - a frigate.'

With this related to the admiral the translator asked several more question designed to find out where the British Fleet was, sometimes asking Ramage and sometimes Jackson.

Suddenly the admiral asked Ramage, in poor English, 'You seem to be a man of superior intelligence: how many sail of the line and frigates do you think the English have in the Mediterranean?'

Ramage pretended to be counting on his fingers while he thought of an answer. Should he exaggerate to frighten the Spanish admiral back into port, or say fewer, so the Spanish would seek out the British Fleet and thus give Sir John Jervis a chance of trouncing them? Then, remembering that the evacuation of Corsica - which meant protecting large convoys of merchantmen - was Sir John's prime consideration at the moment, he decided to exaggerate.

'Reckon about fifteen ships o' the line, sir. Frigates - I can only guess. 'Bout thirty.'

The surprise showed on the admiral's face: this was bad news.

'Fifteen? Name them!'

Ramage listed all those he knew had been in the Mediterranean and to the Tagus in the past few months, although many had subsequently left again.

'That makes twelve,' the admiral said.

Jackson promptly added three more names, saying he had seen one off Bastia and two off Leghorn less than a month ago.

'Why did you not know of these?' Ramage was asked.

'I was in another ship; I wasn't sent to the cutter' - he could not bring himself to say 'Kathleen' - 'until two weeks ago.'

'Very well. Your cutter - she was taking part in evacuating Corsica?'

Ramage just avoided falling into the trap and answered before Jackson could speak. 'No, sir, we was going to Gibraltar for orders, so I heard at the scuttlebutt: but I never heard any talk of 'vacuating Corsica. Why would they want to do that?'

Jackson was shaking his head, as if equally puzzled.

'You may go,' the admiral said abruptly.

Ramage turned, but Jackson asked:

'Sir, none of us - that is, the ones sent over from the frigate - is English, so will we be set free when we get into port?'

The admiral said pompously, 'We are not kidnappers like the English. If you do not wish to serve the King my Master - and I am told you do not, which is ingratitude since his servants were your rescuers - I will consider your applications.'

'Thank you, sir,' said Ramage. 'We are most grateful. When your ships came alongside, we all guessed we'd be delivered.'

It was spreading the jam thickly, but Ramage could see that profusely thanking the admiral for doing something he had not yet done - had simply said he would consider doing - would ensure his vanity did the rest.

The admiral held up his hand deprecatingly.

'It is nothing. My officers will see you are fed and clothed.'

Ramage gave a clumsy salute, followed by Jackson, and they both left the cabin. They found the other men lounging about on the gangway chatting as best they could with the Spanish seamen. There seemed to be a complete lack of discipline: men were sleeping beside the fo'c'sle guns; others were on the hammocks stowed in the nettings along the top of the bulwarks.

'What's the news, Jacko?' asked the Cockney seaman.

'The admiral—' he caught sight of the translator approaching, and raised his voice slightly '—the admiral has promised that we are free men and we can go on shore as soon as we get to a Spanish port.'

The men gave a cheer and Ramage suspected it was in response to a wink from Jackson, but it was effective: the translator, who was probably the admiral's secretary and clerk, gave an ingratiating smile as he passed, and Ramage knew Jackson's announcement and the men's cheer would be reported back to the admiral.

The main things that interested Ramage now were to discover the strength of the Spanish Fleet and the admiral's plans - both the original one, which presumably would now be abandoned, and the new one taking its place. He'd have plenty of time to see how he'd get the intelligence to Gibraltar...

A glance round the horizon answered the first question: there were exactly thirty-two sail of the line - at least six of them three-deckers - and a dozen frigates (and three or four more presumably over the horizon). The Cockney seaman, Will Stafford, provided some of the other answers, after pointing out that the frigate towing the Kathleen had left the Fleet (to avoid delaying it, Ramage guessed).