"We're clear of the Laja del Norte now," he said to Southwick and then, seeing Aitken hurry back on deck, said to him: "I want you to get us due south of the point: I want to pass a point exactly two miles west of the fort at the end of the city."
He pointed to the slate. "Write down this bearing and distance. I want you to tack exactly there."
Southwick was frowning and shaking his head, puzzled by Ramage's instructions.
"Bajos de León," Ramage said cryptically, and turned to look astern.
"Here she comes," he said, taking a telescope from the binnacle box drawer. "Pitching just nicely. Yes, fairly clean bottom. She's one of the ships that joined Villeneuve from Brest; that copper sheathing hasn't spent weeks in the Mediterranean and then crossed the Atlantic twice. Going to be a race, gentlemen."
"If she catches us, she'll slap our 'and," Stafford declared. He had been leaning out of the port, looking at the 74 astern. "Clean bottom - almost got a shine on the copper, she 'as. Everything set to the royals, and fairly 'urtling along."
"Well, we've got everything set to the royals and we're hurtling along, too," Jackson said.
Stafford spat through the port. "I ain't never," he said portentously, '"eard of a frigate escaping a 74 with this wind and sea."
"The Calypso has never been chased by a 74 before," Rossi said.
"Na, only 'appens once," Stafford said. "Ain't nothin' left ter chase the second time!"
"Staff," Jackson said, "either cheer up or shut up; we don't need to hear you ticking away like a deathwatch beetle."
"Well, all I can say," Stafford said defiantly, "Mr Ramage is goin' to 'ave ter try somefing reely desperate this time."
"You sound as tho' you've never sailed with him before," Jackson said. "He's kept you alive so far."
"Si, and I don't know why," Rossi said. "Is a waste."
"You lot 'ave no 'magination," Stafford grumbled. '"Ere, just look frew the port. We're being chased by a 74, not a porpoise. A plum-coloured 74," he added.
Jackson walked over and leaned out of the port. He inspected the French ship and then came and sat down on the breech of the gun. "As close-winded as we are, I reckon," he said. "She's just about sailing in our wake."
"I just told you that!" Stafford exclaimed.
"Yes, so you did," Jackson said. "Well, there's one thing about it, I don't reckon any judge'll be sending you to the Bridewell or the Marshalsea now, and you've picked your last lock. You're dragging your anchors for the next world, Staff; I can't see you living to watch the sun set."
"Cheer up, Staff," Gilbert said. "If you go, probably we'll all come with you, so you won't be lonely."
"I'm not ready to go yet!" Stafford said defiantly.
"Well, it was you who decided you were going," Jackson said unsympathetically. "We were thinking of staying - with Mr Ramage."
"We'll see," Stafford said darkly, and lapsed into a sulky silence.
"What happens now, Jacko?" Gilbert asked.
The American shrugged his shoulders. "Damned if I know. We're just heading south along a straight coast with a 74 chasing us, and if the Euryalus and the Sirius have any sense they'll be making a dash for it. Frigates don't fight 74s - not unless they're trapped."
At that moment Orsini arrived. "The captain wants you on the quarterdeck, Jackson. So you, Stafford, become gun captain and you, Rossi, are second captain. The rest of you move up one. D'you know what you're supposed to be doing?" he asked Gilbert.
"Yes, sir," he said confidently, kicking a handspike.
Orsini patted the breech of the gun. "A 12-pounder shot may not go right through a 74," he said with a grin, "but the bang is very heartening!"
As soon as he saw Jackson come on deck, Ramage said: "You take over as quartermaster. When I say tack, you tack as though the admiral's on board, and if you've thought you've sailed this ship close to the wind before now, I can tell you it wasn't good enough ..."
Jackson, recognizing the tone of Ramage's voice, grinned and said: "Aye, aye, sir, we'll show those Frenchmen how to do it."
Now, as the Calypso plunged south, spray beginning to sweep across the deck (Ramage noticed gun captains fitting the canvas aprons over the flintlocks to protect them), the frigate on this tack was steering straight for the San José church, the wind now brisk on her starboard side as she heeled under the press of canvas.
Ramage stared ahead over the frigate's bow. Yes, she was steering straight for the church, a mile ahead. The water shallowed half a mile out from the beach, so they would tack there. He walked over to the binnacle. And as soon as they tacked they would be steering . . . well, just right.
Now he looked astern at the French 74. She too was shouldering up the spray - but was she catching up fast enough? Ramage thought not.
"Ease the topsail and t'gallant sheets a little - I want to lose a knot or two," Ramage told Aitken.
The Scotsman did not question the order but Ramage saw him give Southwick a puzzled glance.
The frigate slowed and Jackson had to let her pay off a little to keep the sails drawing. The best he could steer was slightly to the north of the San José church.
Ramage looked astern at the Frenchman and nodded. The 74 was now steering exactly in the Calypso's wake. He would have to tack the Calypso along the four-fathom line, otherwise the Frenchman might lose his nerve and tack too soon.
"Have the leadsman start singing out the moment it starts shoaling from four fathoms," he told Aitken, "and we tack immediately."
Aitken was going to protest that they could go on to the three-fathom line because the beach shoaled gently, but the look of concentration on Ramage's face made him stay silent.
The leadsman's chant was monotonous: five fathoms . . . five fathoms . . . five fathoms . . . four and a half. . . four and a half . . . four . . .
Ramage looked at Aitken, who snapped an order to Jackson and started shouting sail orders through his speaking trumpet.
As soon as the flapping of canvas stopped, Ramage reminded Aitken: "Sou'west by south, Mr Aitken, and make a note of the time."
Yes, a cast of the log would be useful, but he was dealing with a mile and a half, and by the time the log was reeled in ...
He turned and watched the Frenchman. No, the luffs of his sails were not shivering yet. The Frenchman, too, was relying on his leadsman. On he went, until he was almost directly astern of the frigate and in line with the San José church. Then the 74 tacked - tacked smartly, Ramage had to admit. And now she was exactly in the Calypso's wake and . . . yes, she was beginning to overhaul the frigate. Ramage imagined himself on the quarterdeck of the 74. Yes, overhaul her noticeably: they must be confident that in three or four more tacks they would be ranging up alongside the English frigate . . . yes, the French would reckon to finish the job in a couple of broadsides, although one should be enough.
"Hard to know on which side they'll overhaul us," Southwick said, his voice flat.