John’s next attempt was to use the landing-craft ships, lashed together prow to stern across the channel before the St Martin citadel. Two small camps of soldiers were set up at either side, to guard the barrier and to take the occasional pot shot at those citizens of St Martin who were bold enough to peep over the half-finished walls. The building work on the fort had almost ceased, although the need to finish the citadel had never been greater.

‘They’re weary and hungry,’ Buckingham said with satisfaction. ‘We will outlast them.’

Within a week of the new barrier being in place there were more high winds, and the stormy waters, pushing the landing craft in opposite directions, broke through. Some of the officers were openly contemptuous of Tradescant at the council of war.

‘I am sorry,’ John said dourly. ‘But you are asking me to build a barrier in what is almost open sea. I can rebuild it. I shall bring the ships closer in to shore and run hawsers one from another. The men on board ship can keep watch, and if a hawser breaks we can replace it. But the weather is getting worse, I can think of nothing which will withstand the autumn storms.’

Buckingham’s face was grave. ‘The king’s fleet will arrive this month,’ he said. ‘It will come without fail. His Majesty loves me and I have his solemn promise of a fleet in September. I have asked him to send more hawsers and timber as well as munitions, money and food. And three thousand more fighting men. As soon as it arrives we will take the castle and move on to La Rochelle itself. Once we’re on the mainland all our troubles will be over.’

There was a brief dispirited silence. Only John dared voice what they were all thinking. ‘If he is delayed …’ he began cautiously. ‘If the king cannot raise the money for the fleet …’

Buckingham’s sharp gaze warned John to be silent; but he doggedly continued.

‘I beg your pardon, my lord, but if His Majesty is delayed in sending succour then we will have to withdraw for this year,’ he said stoutly.

‘You are afraid,’ one of the Frenchmen declared. He whispered something behind his hand about gardens and easy lives.

‘I know that we are running short of food and munitions,’ John said steadily. ‘And the men are on half-pay. If there was anywhere for them to go they would have deserted already. We cannot make them fight if they are hungry. They cannot shoot their muskets if they have no powder.’ He looked at Buckingham, past the gentlemen who were openly laughing at him. ‘Forgive me, my lord. But I am much with the common soldiers and I know what they are thinking, and I know that they are going hungry.’