"Sir!" Aitken exclaimed. "Surely that's too big a risk compared with what we could possibly gain. Rossi could easily find out. Or young Orsini - it's just the sort of job he'd be good at."

"You'd sooner risk the probable ruler of Volterra than me?"

"Most certainly, sir," Aitken said flatly. "We've Admiralty orders to carry out, and losing you means risking that we can't complete them. It's unfortunate that Orsini might have inherited Volterra at this particular time, but he's simply a midshipman in the King's service. And," he added as an afterthought, "we've never worried before about risking his life."

That was true enough and Ramage imagined Orsini's reaction if he thought he was deliberately being kept out of danger. "Very well, we'll send him in tonight with Rossi."

"May I command the cutter, sir?" Hill asked quickly. "I've a lot to learn about this sort of work. I'm afraid being a lieutenant on board the Salvador del Mundo didn't help much."

"Made you a very good escort for accused officers," Ramage said teasingly.

Hill sighed and then grinned: "With respect, sir, your court-martial changed my life. If I hadn't been your escort and asked if I could serve with you, I'd still be in Plymouth Sound chasing after the admiral and worrying that my stock wasn't properly ironed."

"You're more likely to reach a ripe old age serving in a guardship, waiting on an admiral, than serving as the second lieutenant in a frigate," Ramage said ironically.

Hill shook his head. "No sir, guardships are much more dangerous than frigates."

Ramage raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Yes, sir: every day in a guardship you risk dying of boredom!"

"At least that's painless," Ramage said. "Now, tell the sentry to pass the word for Orsini and Rossi. In the meantime, Hill, let's look at our rough chart of Santo Stefano: I'll show you where the beach is. You have to land there because there are rocks and cliffs everywhere else."

"Jackson, sir," Southwick said.

Ramage stared blankly, then realized what the old master meant. "He'd never have forgiven me!"

When Aitken looked puzzled, Ramage explained. "Some years ago, when we were rescuing Orsini's aunt, Jackson and I had to walk round Santo Stefano without anyone realizing who we were. You'd better take Jackson in the cutter - he'll be able to point out various landmarks to Orsini and Rossi, though there's no need for him to land." He looked round at Hill. "Pass the word for Jackson as well."

When Orsini and the two seamen arrived, Ramage explained what they were to do. When he had finished, Orsini asked: "What arms do we carry?"

Ramage shook his head. "None. As I've just explained, the pair of you are supposed to be from Lucca: you spend half the year traipsing round Tuscany, just pruning olive trees. That story will be convincing to the French provided your clothes are ragged enough, your hands grimy enough, and your pruning knife sharp enough. And you have a sharpening stone tucked in your belt, too."

"We're out of pruning knives, sir," Southwick said ironically. "A few handstones, yes; pruning knives no. You didn't tell me about the olive trees when we were commissioning . . ."

"Do you know what a pruning knife for olive trees looks like?"

"Well, no, sir. I suppose it's a short knife with a curved end."

"That's for pruning grape vines, and disembowelling rabbits; it'd take you a month to prune an olive tree with a small blade like that. No, you need something like a short cutlass, or the machete they use in the West Indies for cutting sugarcane."

"We're out of them, too," Southwick said lugubriously. "You didn't mention sugarcane, either."

Ramage sighed, as though despairing. "I need a new master for this ship. A young man with imagination."

"Maybe," grunted Southwick, "but all that's the gunner's job." With that Southwick knew he had played a trump card, because the Calypso's gunner was a useless man who fled to his cabin rather than accept responsibility for anything. Because he was appointed by the Board of Ordnance (which was controlled by the Army), it was almost impossible to replace him, so Ramage simply ignored him.

Ramage, remembering it was early in the season for pruning but guessing that French soldiers would not know that, looked up at the deckhead, as though thinking. "Ah yes. That two-handed sword of yours. We could put that on the grindstone and grind it down to half its length, and then shape it up."

In a moment Southwick was on his feet, remembering just in time to duck so that he did not bang his head. "Sir! You can't be ..." His voice tapered off as he realized the other officers were laughing. He had made the rare mistake of taking Ramage seriously when he made a straight-faced joke. To recover himself he said: "But of course, for the King's service I'd be willing to sacrifice it."

"Good, thanks: that settles it," Ramage said. "Rossi can have that. Now Orsini, your midshipman's dirk is about the right length."

"It will be fine, sir," Orsini assured him. "Wrapped in a greasy cloth, it'll look just right."

By now Southwick had sat down again and was scratching his head. "I'm sure we could find something like Mr Orsini's dirk ... the cook must have a big knife. The butcher, too."

"But they need them so that we can eat," Ramage said. "No, don't bother your head: your sword will do, and you might get the men to hoist the grindstone up on deck: I expect most of the cutlasses need sharpening as well."

"If you say so, sir," Southwick said, knowing he was beaten.

He had owned the sword for many years; it was the only one he had ever found that had just the right balance. "If you'll excuse me, I'll see to the grindstone now."

Ramage nodded, and Southwick made for the door. Just as he was going through, Ramage said: "Oh, Southwick. It'll take hours of grinding to shorten your sword. Have some men grind down a cutlass to a couple of feet, and round up the point."

The master grinned: it was not often the captain caught him twice ...

"We'll go up on deck and survey Argentario's beaches with the glass, and it'd be a good idea," Ramage said to Hill, Orsini, Rossi and Jackson, "if you get those little headlands fixed in your memory."

For the next half an hour the five men passed the telescope between them. Ramage found the names came back easily. From where the northern causeway joined Argentario, as the telescope swung to the right towards Santo Stefano, there was the Torre Santa Liberata at the end of a small headland; then still going westward the land cut back into a small bay next to a larger one, Cala del Pozzarello, with Torre Calvello guarding it. Then came three small headlands, the last of which was Punta Nera, and then the land sloped sharply down into Santo Stefano itself.

The little port was scooped out of the hills, with several fishing boats hauled up on the only stretch of beach, and looking down on it was the bulky, four-square and curiously dignified Fortezza di Filippo Secundo. And then, at the western end of Argentario (or as far west as they could see from the Calypso), was Punta Lividonia.

Ramage let his memory take over. Just round that headland, the third or fourth bay to the south, was Cala Grande. Some years ago he and Jackson and a few men in an open boat had rowed into there from the Torre di Buranaccio on the mainland with Gianna, badly wounded, a pistol or musket ball still lodged in her. They had put into Cala Grande in the darkness and he and Jackson had climbed up the cliffs and over the hills to Santo Stefano, looking for a doctor to kidnap and take down to the beach ... Was that doctor, who had in fact proved to be a loyal Italian, still alive and living in his house just by the Fortezza? What was it called - ah yes, the Casa di Leone. Yes, that plump little doctor had a lion's heart; his house was aptly named.