It was still too damned light: although the new moon had already set the clouds were small and slow-moving, obscuring only a few stars, and pushed along the coast by a light north wind which might at any moment turn west into a land breeze.

Argentario was a bulky dark mass on the starboard beam; ahead was the northern causeway, a long thin crescent like the new moon, narrow and little more than a sandy beach backed by a scattering of pine trees and with the lake formed by the two causeways a silver sheet of water beyond. Over on the larboard bow was Capo d'Uomo (with a tower on top), then Monte dell' Uccellina (little bird: a splendid name!) which sloped down gradually to the sea at Talamone and formed the corner of the cliffs on which Talamone was built. Yes, with the nightglass, even allowing for the irritation that it showed everything upside-down, Ramage could see the walled village with the square tower in the middle. At that moment a break in the clouds let the starlight display the tower clearly with its battlements - at a guess four guns a side. He turned to Southwick. "We're about right?"

The master waved his quadrant: he had been using it to measure the horizontal angles made by the peak of Monte Argentario to starboard, Torre Saline and the tower at Talamone to larboard, so that he could work out the Calypso's exact position inside the great bay.

"Time for me to go to the fo'c'sle, sir," he said. "As soon as we get nine fathoms on the lead, we can anchor."

The Calypso was gliding: the sea was smooth and the north wind meant that the land beyond Talamone gave the bay a lee.

He listened to the singsong reports of the leadsman and pictured the man standing in the chains, the thick board jutting out from the ship's side and down to which the shrouds were led. The man would be wearing a thick leather apron to keep off the streaming water as he hauled in and coiled the leadline after each cast, feeling with his fingers for the twists of leather and cloth which let him distinguish the depth of water in which they were sailing.

Ten fathoms. He swung the nightglass forward so that he could search along the coast midway between Talamone and where the causeway met the mainland. Starting from the tower at Talamone, he looked to the right. A few houses - that will be the hamlet of Bengodi and those dark objects like spearheads planted point upwards in the ground are a cluster of cypress, probably planted a century ago as a windbreak. Then the occasional sparkle when the starlight catches a wavelet as it breaks on the beach. Pine trees behind but between them and the sand a low grey line of what must be flat clumps offico dei Ottentotti, growing long fingers across and under the sand above sea level and always ready to trip the unwary. Then a few more small houses - and a faint red glow, a carbonaio's banked fire. More cypress - they sound better in Italian, cipressi. The beach, a few more pines - ah, there is the Torre Saline, squat, the largest tower for miles and its square shape throwing shadows round it like a cloak. And there the Fiume Albinia and - yes, he could just distinguish the bridge for the Via Aurelia, so the turning to Pitigliano would be easy to find.

There was the leadsman again. Ten fathoms. Bottom soft mud. "Arming the lead" - that was a curious use of the word "arming". A landman would think it warlike, even though it must be the most peaceful activity in the ship. It meant putting a handful of tallow in the cavity at the bottom of the lead (itself looking like a weight from a grandfather clock) so that when the lead hit the sea bed a sample of whatever composed it - sand, mud, coral, fine shell, and so on - stuck to the tallow. A good chart gave not only the depths of water but the nature of the bottom, and often experienced fishermen navigated without charts merely by knowing the pattern of the sea bed. Many claimed they knew where they were by the smell of the mud ...

Once again he looked round. The Calypso was making under a knot now: the headland at Talamone and the mountains behind were stealing the wind, but there was no hurry. The frigate's cutter and gig had long since been hoisted out and were towing astern; the Pitigliano party of men waited in the waist of the ship with Aitken and Hill; now Southwick stood on the fo'c'sle and Kenton was at the quarterdeck rail.

Ramage handed Kenton the nightglass, noting that the clouds were becoming more scattered. "That's Talamone - you can see the tower. Start there and work your way south, telling me what you see, and I'll identify it for you."

Carefully Kenton described what he saw, and finally reached the Torre Saline. "Carry on to the south. You see where this causeway from Argentario joins the mainland? Now follow the causeway round - it's called Giannella - and you'll see where it joins Argentario itself."

At that moment the leadsman reported nine fathoms. "Carry on," Ramage told Kenton, "you're officer of the deck - and you'll be in command of the ship very soon."

Kenton told the quartermaster to bring the ship head to wind while ordering the topmen aloft to furl sails. Only the foretopsail would be left drawing, so that as the Calypso turned north the wind would press against the forward side of the sail and, like a hand pushing against a man's chest, bring the ship first to a stop and then slowly move her astern, giving her sternway which would help dig the anchor in once it had been let go.

Kenton went to the ship's side to watch the water. He reported as soon as the ship stopped, and then as she gathered sternway Ramage picked up the speaking trumpet and gave the order "Let go!" to Southwick, heard the answering hail, and a moment later the heavy splash of the anchor hitting the water, followed by the rumble of the thick cable running through the hawse.

With the foretopsail aback and the anchor dug home, Southwick came up to the quarterdeck to report how much cable had been let out and that the anchor was holding well. Then he corrected himself by saying to Kenton: "I should be reporting to you."

"Thank you, Mr Southwick," the youth said gravely, and gave the order to furl the foretopsail. Then, turning to Ramage, he said: "I'd be glad if you'd repeat my instructions in front of Mr Southwick, sir, because if I have to carry them out I know they might not sit well with him."

Southwick gave one of his sniffs, one which Ramage interpreted to mean: the orders of my superiors always sit well with me. However, Ramage could well see why Kenton was taking the precaution.

"As the senior lieutenant left on board you will of course have command of the ship," Ramage said. "You know we have sailed in here without any show of secrecy, so that French lookouts will assume we're a French national ship just anchoring in a quiet bay for a couple of days."

"But if a French boat comes off and questions us sir?" Kenton prompted.

"I can't spare you a Frenchman to answer any hails, so do your best to fool them, but if it seems the boat will raise an alarm, sink it, sail with the Calypso, wait out of sight and then return here in four days, anchoring in the same position. At the same time you'll send three boats to pick us up at the mouth of the river Albinia.

"If we're not there, you'll return two nights later, same time, and send boats to the same place. If we're still not there you'll go to Gibraltar, report to the port admiral, and give him my secret orders. You'll also report that I and my men have probably been captured."

"That gives you only six days to get to Pitigliano and back, sir," Southwick protested. "Supposing some of the hostages are crippled, or so ill they have to be carried on litters? Let's come back a third time. That'd give you eight days."

"No," Ramage said patiently. "If there's any delay I'll send someone - it'll probably be Midshipman Orsini - to bring you fresh instructions. So, after six days no Orsini means no anyone else."