"Yes," Ramage said as casually as possible, trying to keep the excitement from his voice. "A rumour, I shall emphasize that. Now señor," he said, taking out his watch, "is there anything else? My boat will be waiting for me in about five minutes' time."
Perez shook his head. "No. I think that is all I have to offer. Is it of help?"
"Yes, His Lordship will be very grateful. Now, I suggest we leave by the front door, with you bidding us farewell, as though we have been paying you a normal visit. By the way, there is no curfew?"
Perez shook his head. "There was for a short while, but the people are too frightened to go out - because of the troops! So the garrison commander lifted the curfew."
As the gate shut behind them Ramage and Orsini, blinking to get accustomed to the darkness, began walking across the plaza to the cemetery. Both sighed at the same moment and laughed at the coincidence.
"What is troubling you?" Ramage asked in Spanish.
"A most interesting visit," Orsini said carefully, wary that he might be overheard.
"Yes," Ramage said, "we must pass the message to our master."
"He will be pleased!"
Will he? Ramage thought not. It was one thing to cover the Combined Fleet against the chance of escaping north to the English Channel, but it was quite something else (while staying out of sight, not risking deterring them from sailing) to guard against them escaping southwards to the Mediterranean. It was, indeed, a toss-up.
By now they were passing through the cemetery and they could hear the lazy slapping of wavelets on the beach. Ramage suddenly held Orsini's shoulder: "Listen!"
There were angry voices shouting in Spanish. Two voices. And equally vociferous replies in French. Ramage stared across the beach and gradually made out the shape of two horsemen at the water's edge and, just beyond them, the cutter. Spanish mounted guards, challenging the boat, and Gilbert and Louis shouting back in French, pretending to be indignant but not understanding whatever the Spanish sentries were asking.
Ramage crouched down and made his way across the sand, followed by Orsini. The Spaniards were getting more excited; they were clearly asking questions and demanding answers - why a boat full of men should be at this beach - but were not satisfied with the shouts in French.
Very soon Ramage could distinguish what the Spaniards were saying. They were very nervous, very jumpy and very angry at being answered in French: they reckoned that only Spanish boats should be out at night.
Ramage and Orsini were only five yards from the two horsemen when Ramage heard one of them bellow angrily: "Get out of the boat! Out! If you don't get out I shoot the nearest man!"
Surprise, thought Ramage. And noise. He whispered to Orsini. A moment later both men ran screaming and shouting at the horses, slapping each on the rump and starting them rearing. Without waiting to see what had happened to the equally startled horsemen, Ramage continued running, grabbed the side of the cutter and, making sure that Orsini was scrambling on board, snapped at Jackson: "Quick, shove off! Those two won't be able to aim pistols properly while their horses are dancing!"
The men on the beach side of the boat thrust down and away with their oars, levering the boat round, and the moment the bow was heading seaward all the oars dipped in the water and the men began rowing vigorously.
Ramage scrambled into the boat, sprawling across a thwart. He twisted round to look at the horsemen and saw they were ten yards further along the beach, fighting the horses which were rearing and neighing: horses frightened by the screams and slaps of the two men approaching from the rear, and spurred and kicked by the startled riders they had nearly thrown. The yanking at the bits and the raking of the spurs had frightened the horses even more and they continued rearing and walking sideways along the beach, their riders concerned only with staying in the saddles, the boat for the time being forgotten.
Ten yards off the shore, twenty and increasing speed, thirty and Jackson cursing as he tried to fit the metal tiller on to the wooden rudderhead. Thirty yards and they were out of sight of the horsemen; fifty yards and they could no longer see the thin white ribbons of the wavelets breaking.
"Back to the Calypso, sir?" Jackson asked politely once he had the tiller fitted and tucked under his arm.
Ramage thought a moment. He had to sail at once for the Victory, but Blackwood commanded the little inshore squadron of which the Calypso was part.
"No, the Euryalus, first."
Blackwood would be patrolling between the El Diamante and La Galera shoals: a five-mile sail from here, and then another three miles or so to find the Calypso.
With the Calypso hove-to half a mile to windward of the flagship, Ramage boarded the Victory at exactly nine o'clock next morning, tired but shaven, wearing a frock-coat that Silkin had insisted on pressing, and a neatly tied stock.
At the last moment a whimsical thought that the news he was taking to Lord Nelson could mean that England was safe from any invasion threat led Ramage to wear his Lloyd's sword. A puzzled Silkin had mumbled: "But you didn't wear it when all the other captains were there," and Ramage had laughed. "It's an old Spanish custom," he said.
Hardy greeted him at the entryport, anxious but trying to hide it. "His Lordship is worried - couldn't you carry out his orders?"
"His orders?" a puzzled Ramage repeated. "But he only gave me one set of orders."
"Yes, about landing in Cadiz."
"Ah yes," Ramage said, "that's why I'm here." And, he thought, you may be the admiral's flag captain, but if you think I'm going to make a report to you standing at the entryport with your first lieutenant and a couple of seamen, not to mention sideboys, all straining their ears, you are wrong.
With that he hurried to the great cabin, had the Marine sentry announce him after saluting in a cloud of pipeclay, and at Lord Nelson's call went in to find the admiral again sitting in his special armchair.
"Well, Ramage, what happened, eh? Problems?"
Ramage was almost alarmed at the admiral's concern - he had jumped up out of the chair, good eye glinting, the single arm clutching a handful of papers which he had been reading.
"No, sir: I carried out your orders and hurried out to make my report."
"What a stout fellow!" Nelson exclaimed, slapping him on the back with the handful of papers. "As soon as you hove in sight and were identified, Hardy and I decided you hadn't had time to land in Cadiz and get out here! I'm only too delighted to learn we were wrong! Well, what news have you got for me? Did you find our friend?"
Ramage nodded. "Yes, sir, we found his house in the lee of that church and paid him a call. We convinced him we were friends and he told us all he knew."
"You had no trouble with the Spanish getting on shore?"
"No, sir. We had to drive off a couple of mounted sentries to get back on board the cutter, but there was no difficulty."
"We? Who did you take with you?"
"Midshipman Orsini, sir, the nephew of the Marchesa di Volterra."
"Ah yes, you told me: he speaks fluent Spanish."
"As well as being a very resourceful young officer, sir."
"Yes, I'll keep an eye on him," the admiral said. "Has he passed for lieutenant yet?"