The secret, and the American almost sighed as he recalled how many times he had tried to explain it to Stafford and Rossi, was in two things: Mr Ramage could spot an opportunity - a weakness in the enemy defences - which other men would miss; and then he was lightning-quick in deciding how to take advantage of it.
Stafford partly understood it, since Jackson had pointed out that a burglar rarely knew what he would find when he broke into a house. Usually he had only a few minutes to decide whether he would take a set of bulky silver candelabras and cutlery from the dining-room table or waste time looking for jewellery that might be hidden anywhere in the house. Staff, who freely admitted that he turned his skills as a locksmith in such directions as burglary "when times was 'ard”, had chuckled then, but this morning, before the squall, he had been like everyone else in the ship's company, trying to guess the Captain's plan.
Jackson growled at the men at the wheel and they hurriedly heaved at the spokes to bring the ship back on course. The wind was following the coast, steady from the east. Curious how that squall suddenly came up from the south: a miniature gale, really, with the wind switching back the moment it cleared.
It had been a close calclass="underline" some of the men reckoned the Jocasta heeled over so far that the ends of her lower yards had touched the water. Jackson had to admit he had not been looking; he had grabbed a ring bolt with both hands and prayed that one of the guns on the windward side would not break loose and come skidding across the deck to crush him.
He grinned happily to himself. One day he would count up how many times he had been quartermaster when Mr Ramage took a ship into action. Meanwhile he must remember to keep an eye on young Mr Orsini; if anything happened to him the Marchesa's heart would break. It was hard to know whether the lad was brave or stupid, but the way he set about those Dons in Santa Cruz - on the deck of this very ship - with a dirk in one hand and a cutlass in the other. . . He had plenty of courage, and Jackson was thankful he had been able to cut down the Don who had got behind the boy and was about to spit him with a boarding pike. It had been all over in a second, and Mr Orsini never knew how close he had been to death.
"I can make out the Trinchera Bastion, " Ramage said casually.
"You should be able to see into the anchorage in a few moments, " Southwick said.
"I can already, " Ramage said. "It's empty."
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Jocasta was hove-to on the larboard tack half a mile off the landing place in front of La Guaira, her bow heading directly towards the town, which was a large cluster of white houses built on a flat ledge between the hills and sprawling down towards the water's edge.
Ramage shut his telescope with an impatient snap and Southwick gave a disgusted sniff.
"What do you think, sir? Hasn't the ship arrived yet?"
Ramage shrugged his shoulders. He thought that he had anticipated every possibility, ranging from finding that a Spanish ship of the line had arrived unexpectedly to discovering the "particular cargo" had been unloaded and locked up somewhere on shore under a heavy guard.
Aitken coughed, his usual modest preliminary to offering a suggestion: "Perhaps they've been warned from Santa Cruz and the ship has sailed."
"No, " Ramage said, "no messenger could have beaten us here, even if it was a flat road all the way - can you imagine what it's like having to cross all these mountains?"
All three men looked gloomily at the rows of peaks disappearing in the distance to the eastward.
"It's very strange, " Southwick growled. "We know from all those Spanish letters that up to a couple of days ago Velasquez thought that damned merchant ship was waiting here."
"Aye, but anything could have happened since the last of those orders was sent from La Guaira or Caracas, " Aitken said. "They're three or four days old by the time a messenger delivers them in Santa Cruz."
"The place is so empty of ships that it's almost as though they're expecting an English attack, " Southwick commented.
The thought had already crossed Ramage's mind: was there another British frigate cruising along this coast, sent out from Jamaica by Sir Hyde Parker?
"The ships that were here - the merchantman we're after, and the usual droghers and sloops - would have had to go somewhere to escape. They'd have come along the coast towards Santa Cruz, but we saw nothing, " Ramage said.
"Not the Dons! " Southwick said scornfully. "To them, safety means getting into a harbour and relying on forts. They'd have made for Santa Cruz."
"The place is too empty, " Ramage said, thinking aloud rather than making a comment; ominously empty. Something had happened - an order from the Port Captain or the appearance of an English frigate, perhaps - which had scattered all the usual collection of ships one would expect to find in a place like La Guaira, which was the province's main port. There should be half a dozen droghers, part of those plying between La Guaira and the villages along the coast, collecting hides and coffee, tobacco and dyewood. There should be smaller sloops, doing the same thing. And a few larger vessels bringing cargoes from places like Cartagena and Santa Marta. Even if there were few cargoes, the vessels had to be somewhere, and the most likely place for at least a few of them was here at La Guaira, the masters waiting patiently for their agents to find them something to carry. Yet there was not even a fishing boat.
Fishing boats! He was angry with himself for not having thought of that before, and opened the telescope again to look along the shore. Starting from the beach below the Trinchera Bastion he moved the telescope slowly westwards towards the landing place. There were a few rowing boats hauled well up the beach, higher than one would expect if they were being used daily. There were no buoys marking moorings, but surely they did not haul up the bigger fishing boats? And no fishing boats at the landing place.
He paused a moment. There was one boat, end on now and under oars, which had obviously left the landing place in the last few minutes. And it had passengers on board; men in uniforms, the sun glinting on gold epaulets and tassels.
"We have visitors coming out, " he said. "Rig man-ropes on the starboard side and warn the men not to talk in front of strangers."
Aitken hurried away and Southwick said: "I can't get used to it, sir" - he gestured up at the Spanish flag. "Here we are, hove-to in a Spanish port, with Spanish officers rowing out to us! "
"Just think of the surprise they're going to get, " Ramage said with a grin.
"You're going to let them on board? Of course, the man-ropes! But what if they raise the alarm, sir?"
"They can hardly do that if we have 'em on board, " Ramage said mildly.
"But we'll have another handful of useless prisoners, " Southwick grumbled. He was not questioning the Captain's judgment; he was so disappointed at the empty anchorage that he was looking for scapegoats.
"They're the only ones who can tell us what has been happening, " Ramage pointed out. "I'm not particularly anxious to go on shore and ask the Port Captain."
"But supposing they won't tell us?"
"They will, " Ramage said grimly. "They left their own beds this morning and they can probably see their houses from here. If they think they won't be going home tonight . . ."
Southwick nodded. "Yes, they'll tell us what happened, " he said contentedly.
"They'll confirm it, anyway, " Ramage said dryly.
The Master's eyebrows shot up. "Confirm what, sir?"
"That the caldereta hit the anchorage as hard as it hit us."
"Aye, that could be, " Southwick said cautiously. "I don't know how far those things extend."