Governor Ramage RN

Chapter Seventeen

Stafford marched up, halted and saluted smartly. "A dozen bleedin' cabbyleeroes, all present an' ker-ect, señor!"

Jackson, resplendent in the Spanish lieutenant's uniform, looked down his nose at Stafford and the dozen seamen now dressed in the uniforms of the Spanish soldiers.

"Hmm," he said airily, "none of you'd pass muster as the King's Guard in Madrid; but out here I can't be so fussy!"

The seamen laughed cheerfully; then Jackson said quickly: "Right, straighten yourselves up, you bedraggled dons; here comes the Captain."

Ramage came out of the house, jamming his hat squarely on his head and walked over to where Jackson had the seamen formed up in two ranks.

Jackson, enjoying playing the role of the teniente, saluted and said: "Garrison all present and correct, sir."

"Very well," Ramage said, and slowly walked along the first rank, inspecting the men as Jackson followed a pace behind.

From the house fifteen yards away they certainly passed for soldiers. Even at ten yards they looked smart enough - but close to they looked exactly what they were, British sailors dressed up in Spanish soldiers' uniforms.

Suddenly Ramage said: "Stafford, march to the door of my house and back."

As the seaman left the front rank, Jackson said: "I'm afraid they all walk like that, sir."

"It's a bit late to do anything. Stick broom handles up the back of their jackets!"

"Maybe in twenty minutes, sir ..."

"Don't bother; just don't let them march!"

The crew of the supply ship might expect trouble but Ramage doubted if they would. Her captain would certainly see the wrecks on the eastern reef and be curious, but if he saw the gold and red flag of Spain flying from the flagpole in front of the houses at San Ildefonso and the garrison standing waiting on the wooden jetty with their lieutenant he would probably think all was well.

Ramage had discussed it a dozen times with Southwick and Yorke. Since he commanded a small transport, the Spaniard was unlikely to be very intelligent, and anyway no other plan had been thought of. If the Spanish captain got suspicious at the last moment, it would be too late. Four of the Topaz's brass six-pounders covered the jetty from carefully concealed positions beside the houses. Even before the transport tacked off Punta del Soldado to make the last long board up to the narrow entrance to the bay, the guns had been loaded with grape and aimed at different points near the jetty. If anything went wrong, a command from Ramage would send the dozen seamen disguised as soldiers bolting from the jetty, out of the line of fire; at a second command the four guns would fire at the ship.

The ship was a day late. She had been due the previous afternoon but lookouts on Punta del Soldado had not sighted her until ten o'clock this morning, slowly beating her way up to Snake Island from Cape San Juan, the nearest point of Puerto Rico. It had been a long and tedious turn to windward, with the tacks to the north shortened by the almost continuous line of cays and reefs between Cape San Juan and Snake Island.

There had been plenty of time to prepare: to relieve the real Spanish soldiers of their uniforms and dress up a dozen laughing, joking seamen so that tunics, breeches, hats and boots were the best possible fit.

Jackson, in Colon's uniform, had come out best: the men were of similar build. Ramage grinned to himself as he recalled Colon's expression when, having suffered the indignity of being made to remove his uniform by a none too gentle Jackson, he had watched the American dress up in it, with Stafford providing a ribald commentary.

The island had a perfect anchorage, with the bay shaped like a bottle, the narrow entrance, or neck, facing south. With the Trade winds always blowing from the easterly quadrant, any ship entering could be reasonably sure of a commanding wind. Leaving might be a different story: a south-easterly wind could mean towing out, using the boats for a few hundred yards. But few ships sailing from Snake Island would be likely to be in that much of a hurry.

Ramage caught sight of a distant white shape beyond the entrance to the bay and walked up to the house, where he was met by Southwick.

"Just spotted her," Ramage said. "She's rounded Punta del Soldado and is getting ready to ease sheets to reach in." "Everything is fine here, sir."

"Your Castile Yeomanry," Yorke commented, "may not be smart enough to be His Most Catholic Majesty's palace guards at the Escorial, but from a distance they'll pass muster as the garrison of Snake Island."

"I'll remuster them as the Snake Island Volunteers," Ramage said. "Recruiting starts in the morning. Subalterns' commissions are selling for five hundred guineas."

Yorke whistled. "A stylish regiment, hey?"

"We can afford to be fussy about who we accept," Ramage said airily, and then suddenly stiffened as he saw Maxine watching from the window of her house.

"I thought I gave an order that the St Brieucs were to be escorted inland until the ship arrived."

"You did," Yorke said wearily. "There is a slight difficulty in making the youngest member of the family obey it."

"What about the parents, and St Cast?"

"They're already a couple of miles away, escorted by a couple of mates and six of my seamen."

"But why wasn't Maxine ... ?"

"Ask her yourself," Yorke said.

Ramage blushed and turned to look to the entrance of the bay again. The ship's hull was lifting appreciably over the curvature of the earth: she had a couple of miles to go. There was no need for the men to stand in the heat of the sun providing they formed up before the Spanish captain could see their rolling gait, and Ramage told Jackson to march them to the shade of the houses. Jackson looked uncertainly at Ramage.

"March them," he repeated. "I heard one or two of them laughing at Stafford's attempts."

So they marched.

"Hogarth ought to be here," Yorke said, "with his easel placed on this balcony. Only his brush could do justice to it!"

"'The Rakes' Progress'," Ramage said. "Not the kind of rake he had in mind, nor the progress, but it'd be a fitting title."

An hour passed before the ship, a beamy schooner, finally stretched through the bottle-neck entrance to the bay, and Jackson's soldiers returned to the jetty.

No one seemed to know why the troops met the schooner, but Ramage was relying on the slave Roberto's description of how the last supply ship had been greeted. She had arrived a few days after the frigate that brought Colon, the soldiers and the slaves from San Juan, and Roberto had mimicked Colon's annoyance at having to stop the slaves digging so that the soldiers could be at the jetty.

Roberto was unable to offer any explanation, however. The soldiers did not help unload; the slaves did that. The soldiers neither fired a salute nor presented arms when the ship came alongside. Roberto added that they ran off the jetty at the last moment "because the captain of the ship is not very skilful and he hit the jetty so hard that everyone thought it would collapse".

Apparently Lieutenant Colon sat on the balcony of his house, watching. Lines from the ship to secure her alongside were handled by the men in the ship, who jumped down on to the jetty. Once the crew had shouted abuse at the soldiers and later the captain had had words with the teniente. They had shouted at each other for half an hour and after that they never spoke to each other again.

They asked Roberto what sort of ship she was but he shrugged his shoulders. Two masts, the body was black with a red stripe all round it, like a belt. He had only been in two ships in his life, the one that brought him to Puerto Rico (a slaver) and the one that brought him here. The ship was called La Perla - "The teniente mentioned her name when he was swearing at the captain."

The slave's information was reassuring: there was no Spanish military or naval custom which, if ignored, would arouse suspicion. Ramage wanted no mistakes made: if even one of the Topaz's guns had to open fire, it would mean damage to the schooner and might even put her permanently out of commission.

Once inside the bay, the schooner moved fast: her captain had to harden in sheets to get up towards the jetty, and then for a reason neither Ramage nor Yorke could subsequently explain, he bore away and then suddenly luffed up head to wind, dropping his foresail, mainsail and headsails. But she was carrying too much way: as the seamen hurriedly tried to furl the sails, the captain ran from side to side of the quarterdeck, screeching at the two men at the massive tiller. At the last moment they heaved it to larboard as the schooner came directly towards the jetty and the houses.

"Try prayer," Yorke advised.

"Miracles," Ramage said. "He - we - need lots of miracles."

A minute or two before the schooner was due to hit the jetty her bow gradually began to come round to starboard. Ramage shouted to Jackson to clear his men out of the way - security was not necessary now. Jackson could have been conducting a band playing "Heart of Oak" without being noticed. Ramage began running down the slope from the house, followed by Southwick and Yorke.

At that moment the schooner passed clear of the end of the jetty and her bow slid up on the sandy beach at the water's edge.

Ramage, Southwick and Yorke all stopped, looking up at the masts now towering above them. "Bolt!" Southwick shouted and they spread out in all directions to avoid being crushed if the masts fell over the bow, broken like twigs by the force of the impact. But there was no splintering wood and snapping rope rigging. The screeching of the Spanish captain, who appeared to have gone berserk, was the only sound to be heard.

Ramage turned back and began running for the beach, again shouting for Jackson who had vanished with his seamen. He had no idea how to regain control of the situation. His splendid plans took no account of the potentially lethal effect of bad seamanship.

The only way of getting on board the schooner now was by wading and clambering up over the bow. He waved to Southwick and pointed to the gun positions.

"One round to one side to scare 'em!"

He and Yorke stood at the water's edge looking up at the schooner's bowsprit and jibboom jutting out above them.

"I could strangle him," he said thickly. "The damned incompetent idiot!"

"Saves anchoring or wearing out ropes," Yorke said, "but of course, you get your feet wet going on shore!"

Ramage was trembling with rage. Where the hell was that damned American with his men?

"Jackson!" he bellowed. "Jackson, blast you!"

"Here, sir!" the American called. Ramage and Yorke looked round and saw nothing.

"Up here, sir!" said Jackson, peering down from the schooner's bow.

"What are you doing up there?" Ramage asked weakly.

"You said to board and -"

A tremendous explosion behind them sent Ramage and Yorke flat on their faces in the sand; then, as the noise echoed and re-echoed across the bay and among the hills, sending up flocks of squawking white egrets, Ramage realized what it was.

"Your bloody brass ordnance," he said to Yorke, standing up, and brushing sand from his breeches. "God, what a mess!"

"I don't know," Yorke said coolly. "Prize captured without a shot fired until after it was secured!"

The schooner was La Perla, built at Rota seven years earlier of Spanish oak and larch. Yorke commented to Ramage that one advantage of having the ship run aground was that inspecting her lines was so much easier.

The ship's company had put up no fight and Jackson's description of how they captured her was one that Ramage could dine out on for years. They had realized La Perla would miss the jetty and run up on the beach, so that they were there to meet her, waiting on her starboard side and had been hidden from Ramage and Yorke.

As soon as she came to rest they had splashed out, slung their muskets over their shoulders and climbed up over the bow, using the bobstay and anchors to get a foothold. The Spanish sailors had been very courteous, assuming they were Colon and his men.

"They helped every one of us over the bulwark," Jackson said. "One of the fattest men I've ever seen gave me his hand as I jumped on deck. As long as no one spoke there seemed no hurry so I began strutting up and down as though I was disgusted with the Captain and impatient with my soldiers.

"The lads were busy getting their muskets unslung, and without me saying anything, Staff and Rosey stood side by side, and the rest of the lads took the hint and formed up in one rank. So there we were, sir, my dozen lads standing to attention and me marching up and down in front of them.

"The Spanish sailors weren't taking much notice, of course, and the Captain was still screaming at the helmsman. I couldn't help thinking that if I didn't do something we'd be there for hours. So I stood to attention and just as I was going to say 'Tritons, take possession of the ship', both Staff and Rosey started laughing - seems I was puffing out my chest like a Spanish customs agent.

"With that we took the ship and then I heard you calling me, sir."

La Perla's regular task was delivering provisions to Spanish garrisons, the majority of them in Puerto Rico itself. There were no troops on the island of Vieques, Ramage was surprised to learn. The skipper of La Perla was indignant that Snake Island, or Culebra as he called it, had a garrison since it gave him another forty miles to beat to windward. Otherwise he left San Juan and went round to Ponce on the south coast and then on to Mayaguez at the western end of the island.

Refloating La Perla took four hours. At first Ramage thought they would have to use her small boat, take out an anchor astern and haul her off. Fortunately, just before he gave the order the wind freshened. As usual, it was easterly and the schooner's bow, at right angles to the beach, headed east.

The Tritons went on board, clambering up over the bow, while the Topazes guarded La Perla's former crew. Soon Southwick and Ramage were standing on her quarterdeck looking over each side.

Ramage nodded his head to the southward, where some seamen were taking soundings from La Perla's only boat.

"Looks clear. We've got plenty of room. Then wear round and come alongside."

If La Perla had run up on mud, it would have gripped her hull with all the suction of an octopus. The thicker the mud, the harder the schooner would be held. Luckily it seemed to be a sandy bottom.

Ramage walked the length of the schooner, noting her general shape, the point of maximum beam and, without realizing it, working out her probable underwater shape and the exact point the hull would pivot under the pressure of various combinations of sail.

The seamen reported the depths they had found to Southwick.

"Straightforward, sir," he said. "I reckon we're only short of six inches of water forward..."

Which meant, Ramage noted thankfully, that with the angle La Perla made to the beach, and the direction of the wind, hoisting the headsails and sheeting them aback would give the schooner's bow a hearty shove to starboard, pivoting her so she was pushed off the beach. Then the big foresail and mainsail - already hoisted and just flapping - would be sheeted in and La Perla would be under way again.

It was a straightforward operation, though not a routine one, and the schooner refloated at the first attempt. He sailed her across the bay and back to get the feeling of how she handled, and then brought her alongside the jetty without any fuss.

The men worked in shifts for the rest of the day unloading surplus provisions and making room for the large number of people La Perla would now be carrying to Jamaica.

Most of the provisions were familiar to the British seamen, but there was much more rice than they expected, and many sacks of a kind of bean they had never seen before. One of the men was incautious enough to take a bit from one of a string of onions and let out a yell as he began gasping for breath, his eyes watering.

"Don't steal the grub," Jackson told him unsympathetically, "but if you do, keep your thieving hands off the garlic."

With everything prepared for the voyage to Jamaica, Ramage began to have misgivings. The risks were ones he accepted for himself and his men without a moment's thought; but with La Perla ready to sail, he found himself worrying more and more about the St Brieucs. Was he justified in taking chances with their lives, particularly since St Brieuc was a man valued by the British Government? The least he could do was warn them.

That evening he invited St Brieuc, St Cast and Yorke to his room for a talk, but when they arrived and sat down, looking at him expectantly, he found it hard to explain.

"The voyage we start tomorrow ..." he began lamely.

The three men waited, all attention.

"There are risks..."

St Brieuc sensed his discomfort and said lightly, "We are becoming accustomed to them. They add a zest to life!"

Yorke came to Ramage's help. "These are different. I think our 'Governor' has privateers in mind."

St Cast turned to St Brieuc and smiled. "I suspect he is more worried about us than the treasure - a flattering thought!"

"He is constantly preoccupied with our safety," St Brieuc said, as though Ramage was not in the room. "I think he should worry more about the treasure - I'm sure that would be the Admiralty's view."

Ramage wondered if St Brieuc had guessed his thoughts and given a subtle hint.

"Either way, the privateers concern me," Ramage said. "I want to be sure you understand the risks."

"I assume it is considerable," St Brieuc said, "since all the islands between here and Jamaica are held by the Spanish or French."

Ramage nodded. "It is considerable, but I'm damned if I know how to describe it. If I told you there were probably six privateers between here and Jamaica, you'd conclude it was dangerous. If I said a dozen, a score or a hundred, you'd reach the same conclusion..."

"The figures mean nothing," St Brieuc said, "since we have no standards to apply. Surely the point is, would you risk making the voyage with the treasure if we weren't here?"

"Yes, but that's not-"

"Yes, it is the point," St Brieuc interrupted quietly. "You worry unnecessarily about us. If we stayed here, I think it would be only a matter of time before Spanish soldiers arrived to hunt us down - don't you agree?"

Ramage nodded.

"So if we stay here, we are certain of ending up in a Spanish prison - or worse."

"Fairly certain." Ramage thought a moment, and corrected himself. "Absolutely certain."

"What are the chances of La Perla being captured by a privateer?"

Ramage shrugged his shoulders. "What was the chance of us being caught in a hurricane? One in a hundred, one in five ... hard to say."

"As far as privateers are concerned," Yorke commented, "I'd put my money on not more than one in ten."

St Brieuc smiled at Ramage, a friendly but worldly smile. "You think of yourself as a gambler, young man?"

"I suppose so. Not with money, but in action one has to..."

"Take an old man's advice, then - confine yourself to the odds in battle. Never go near the gambling tables!"

Ramage grinned. "You seem very certain I'd lose."

"I am, and you've just proved it. You say that if we stay on the island we will be captured. We are one hundred per cent certain of losing, in fact. But if we sail with you in La Perla, we face only a one in five chance of capture. Although I'm the most timid of gamblers, I know which I choose!"

"Although mathematics aren't the 'Governor's' strongest subject," Yorke said dryly, "I think he is being unfair to himself!"

"Yes," Ramage said ruefully. "I had in mind that if you stayed here and La Perla reached Jamaica safely, a frigate would come back and rescue you. I'd leave enough men to guard the Spaniards."

St Brieuc's eyes twinkled. "Your heart is ruling your head. Doing that increases the odds against us. If we stay here, and La Perla is captured by a privateer, we still end up in a Spanish prison. If she reaches Jamaica, we have to wait for the frigate to get back. Head winds all the way, and perhaps another hurricane ... What might the Spanish have done in the meantime? No, please take us in La Perla. I understand your concern, but quite apart from the mathematical aspect which shows the odds are in favour of making such a voyage, we have complete confidence in you."

Yorke nodded in agreement.

"Now that's been decided," St Cast said conversationally, "how long do you think it will take for the Spanish in San Juan to do something about Snake Island?"

"Three weeks at the outside," Ramage said. "Once a passing ship sights the wrecks on the reef and reports them in San Juan, the naval commander will send a frigate ... Apart from that, La Perla will be reported overdue at Ponce within a week. Since Snake Island was her first port, they'll start investigating here. Because of Lieutenant Colon's mission, they're probably sensitive about Snake Island anyway."

"The minute we leave," Yorke said, "Colon will try to raise the alarm. Some men could reach Puerto Rico in a fishing boat - it's not that far."

"Southwick has collected the boats and they are being burned in the morning, but if Colon has any sense, he'll set fire to the grass and bushes on the hills, and hope someone in Puerto Rico takes notice of the smoke."

"We're lucky to have La Perla," St Brieuc commented.

"Yes, we stand more chance of reaching Jamaica with her than if we had the Topaz" Ramage said. "Not so comfortable, admittedly, but safer."

St Brieuc looked puzzled.

"Ships," Ramage explained, "are rather like human beings: you can learn a lot about them from their appearance. La Perla's hull and rig is clearly Spanish. She could never have been built in England."

Yorke nodded in agreement as Ramage continued: "At first our main danger will be of capture by Spanish privateers or ships of war between Puerto Rico and Santo Domingo. Later there's a danger of French ships from the western end of Hispaniola and finally a slight risk of Spaniards from Cuba.

"A Spaniard seeing La Perla sailing close to his own coast and flying a Spanish ensign would assume she was Spanish. And so would a Frenchman. They'd have no reason to think anything else."

Yorke looked keenly at Ramage. "A few miles off the coast past Puerto Rico and all the way to the western end of Hispaniola, then a dash down to Jamaica?"

Ramage nodded. "As close to the coast as we dare."

"Supposing the French want to board us to check up?"

Ramage shrugged his shoulders. "Let them. We have all the ship's papers and unless the Frenchman commanding the boarding party spoke fluent Spanish, which is unlikely, I think I could pass myself off as a Spaniard. I might even do it with a Spanish privateer - the accents vary enormously from province to province."

St Brieuc nodded. "You could, I am sure. When you were talking to that wretched man Colon I remember thinking I would not have thought you were English."

"The point is," Ramage said with a grin, "would you have thought I was Spanish? Anyway, have either of you gentlemen any suggestions for improving my plan?"

All of them shook their heads.

"Right," Ramage said, standing up, "then we sail for Jamaica tomorrow morning as soon as the breeze starts."

After dinner Ramage felt Maxine's foot touching his under the table, and a moment later she said casually to her father, "Nicholas and I are going to have a last walk along the edge of the bay."

"Don't make yourselves sad," he said. "When your mother and I went along there this afternoon we felt quite doleful."

"We always seem to be leaving places we love," Maxine said bitterly as she stood and took Ramage's arm. "We won't be long."

She knew now that she loved him, and she was on the verge of accepting that it was hopeless. Obviously he loved someone else; only that could account for his stiffness. She still wanted him to herself for half an hour tonight; for half an hour when he would not be preoccupied with privateers and hurricanes and hunting for treasure.

By now they were picking their way along the short stretch of sandy beach beside the jetty. The schooner was a dark shape against the stars, and the air was alive with the high-pitched, rapid croaking of tree frogs.

She held her skirt clear of the ground with her left hand and clutched his arm tightly with her right, and pictured in her mind the way he would be frowning as he looked at the ground to make sure she did not trip. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw his right hand move up to his brow. He was rubbing those scars!

It took another ten minutes before they reached the spot she had chosen. It was another small beach with several boulders on it, one of which made a natural seat.

"Here," she said, "let us sit for a few minutes and thank Culebra and say goodbye."

He sat and she realized there was no energy in him. It was as though he was suddenly completely exhausted.

She turned and looked at him.

"You are tired," she said. "It has been a terrible month."

He shook his head. "Not terrible. Exciting, yes."

"The hurricane, the treasure hunt... yes, exciting enough," she said.

"And you," he said, reaching for her hand. "I wish I had met you a long time ago."

"Why 'a long time ago'?"

"Before you were married," he said shyly.

Suddenly she shivered and knew an instant later that he had noticed it.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "that was a tactless thing to say."

She reached up and held his face with both hands.

"Yes, a tactless thing to say ... what do you know of my husband?"

"Nothing, apart from his name and the fact that you obviously love him." He said it gently, almost sadly.

"Do you know how much I love him?" she whispered.

"You never talk about him - as though remembering him makes you unhappy."

"It does, very unhappy. But Nicholas, not for the reason you think." She was still whispering, and her hands moved back so her fingers were twined in his hair, gently pulling him towards her.

"Not for the reason you think," she repeated. "No - the memory of him makes me unhappy because I hate him. I wish he was dead!"

From the way he suddenly gripped her shoulders she knew he had not understood, and she startled herself with the harshness of her voice and her words as she continued. "You are afraid of making a cuckold of the man who betrayed me, my mother and my father to the agents of the Directory?"

"Here!" she said, and took one of his hands. She pulled at the front of her dress and guided his hand down over her breast. "There - and there - and there: you feel the scars? My husband caused them. The torturers of the Directory actually used a red-hot poker. They wanted to know where my father was."

"And you said nothing," he said, bemused both by what she said and the fact his hand was not only still on her breast but that she was pressing it to her, and he could feel the nipple stiffening under his palm.

"They let me go and then followed me secretly because they thought I would lead the way to my father. It was in Paris," she said, "but I was looking for my husband, because I wanted to kill him. My parents were in Brittany and escaped to London, and I managed to follow them. And now," she added simply, "I am here."

"I was so jealous," Ramage said. "And I -"

He was going to say that although he was in love with her he did not even know her real name, but managed to smother the sentence by kissing her.

By nine o'clock next morning the light breeze that had been blowing from the north most of the night veered to the east and freshened, and Ramage waited impatiently as La Perla's boat was hoisted in after returning from across the bay.

Jackson left the group of seamen and came over to Ramage to report.

"Where did you leave them?"

"The headland you pointed out, sir; Punta Colorada. Over there, on the western side of the entrance."

"Any tracks or paths there?"

"Didn't see any, sir. Plenty of trees and bushes. Not hard to get through. Maybe three hours or so back to here."

"They gave no trouble?"

"No, sir. The Lieutenant complained about the long walk back."

Ramage grunted sourly. "He's lucky!"

"We told him that, sir."

The problem of what to do with Teniente Colon and his troops, and La Perla's master and crew, had been solved by locking the soldiers and sailors in the large house with the bricked-up windows used as the slaves' barracks, and taking Colon and the Master to the other side of the bay with the one key that would open the enormous padlock on the door. The prisoners were crowded, but Ramage had little sympathy for the soldiers.

The slaves had been given the choice of joining the Royal Navy or staying on Snake Island. Five, including Roberto, had volunteered. The remainder preferred the known life of slavery to the unknown perils of the Navy.

As soon as the boat was secured, Ramage gave a swift series of orders that saw La Perla's lines taken in, headsails hoisted, the big foresail and even larger mainsail set and the schooner reaching smoothly down the bay towards the narrow entrance. The wind funnelling round the hills was freshening every minute, but inside the bay the water was flat, its surface only pewtered.

Southwick turned to Ramage and nodded: "She goes well."

"We've trimmed her too much by the bow!"

The Master walked to the bow and peered over the lee side; then came aft and looked over the taffrail at the wake. He waved the two men away from the big tiller and took it himself, holding it firmly but with hands sensing the feel of the rudder in the water.

He told the two helmsmen to take over the tiller again, and said to Ramage: "Two tons. Sorry, sir."

Ramage laughed cheerfully. "You're allowed ten tons of leeway with a new ship!"

"Don't worry, sir," Southwick said, mollified as soon as he realized that Ramage's original remark was intended as a comment, not a criticism, "I'll have her trimmed as soon as we get round the point. I made allowances for doing that."

Ramage slapped Southwick on the back - the first time the Master had ever known him do that to anyone - and exclaimed: "Mr Southwick, do you realize the significance of what you've just said?"

The Master looked startled. "No, sir! I made allowances for trimming her. I mean," he added hastily, "I had the holds loaded so I could shift - why, of course, the treasure, sir! The coins are the easiest to move."

"Exactly! How many masters in the service use gold and silver as ballast?"

Southwick grinned delightedly. "Good Heavens, I didn't think of it that way! I'll put it in the log - 'Shifted so-and-so tons of Spanish doubloons to trim the ship.' That'll make a good yarn to tell in Portsmouth!"

By ten o'clock La Perla had passed out through the entrance, eased sheets for the reach along the edge of the reefs down to Punta del Soldado at the south-western corner of the island, and rounded it to bear away before a soldier's wind.

To the westward, Puerto Rico was shimmering in the heat with the island of Vieques a long, low shape to the south-west. If Snake Island, Vieques and Puerto Rico formed three sides of a square, the fourth was made up of an almost impassable barrier of small cays stretching in a long line between the northern ends of Puerto Rico and Snake Island.

Without the Spanish charts Ramage could not have risked the passage between Vieques and the cays, but he guessed La Perla would use that channel on her way to Ponce, and to pass south of Vieques might arouse suspicion.

The sun, climbing high now, would be almost directly overhead in a couple of hours. Streaks of pale green, and brown marks in the sea - like dirty fingermarks on a bright-blue enamel dish - showed where reefs lay just below the surface waiting to rip the bottom out of an unwary ship. Some of the shoals rose above the surface to expose coral whitening in the sun, making islets for the dozens of solemn and dignified pelicans soaring, diving lazily, or watching indifferently as La Perla passed within a few hundred yards.

"Feels strange, doesn't it?" Ramage commented to Yorke, nodding towards the Spanish ensign.

"It certainly does. A trifle florid, isn't it?"

The horizontal stripes of red, gold and red were rarely seen at sea by British eyes.

"It's legal, I assume?" Yorke asked. "I mean, if we get taken by a Spanish ship of the line, we won't be hanged as freebooters or pirates or anything?"

"Perfectly legal," Ramage said. "You have to hoist your own flag before you open fire on someone, that's all."

"Barbarous!" Yorke said with a shudder.

"You're looking at it only from the point of view of a potential victim."

"True enough; I was born a potential victim!"

"It looks different if you use it as a trick to capture a prize."

"I'm a peace-loving man," Yorke said. "With an inborn respect for flags."

"So am I," Ramage said blandly. "I just don't believe everything I see!"

By late afternoon La Perla was passing through the channel between Vieques and the south-east corner of Puerto Rico. Punta Tuna on the starboard bow was the last piece of high land they would see until they had passed westward along the length of Puerto Rico and crossed the Mona Passage to sight the eastern end of Hispaniola.

Just before darkness Ramage searched the horizon with his telescope. There were no sails in sight. Lookouts along the coast should be quite happy: La Perla had left Snake Island according to schedule, making for Ponce. What they would not know was that the schooner would pass Ponce in the darkness, and unless the wind dropped away in the night, would be beyond Puerto Rico and out of sight by sunrise.