'It would be hard to miss him,' I breathed.

'We keep telling him that but he's pretty pig-headed about it and won't budge – just says they are military orders and he does not fear to show them to the enemy. Would you like a gobstopper?'

He offered me a small paper bag which I declined. The vessel heeled over again and we watched in silence as the distance between the two ships steadily closed.

'I never get bored of this. See them?'

I followed his gaze to where three people were huddled on the other side of a large coil of rope. One was dressed in the uniform of the ChronoGuard, another was holding a clipboard and the third had what looked like a TV camera on his shoulder.

'Documentary-makers from the twenty-second century,' explained my father, hailing the other ChronoGuard operative. 'Hello, Malcolm, how's it going?'

'Well, thanks!' replied the agent. 'Got into the soup a bit when I lost that cameraman at Pompeü. Wanted an extra close-up or something.'

'Hard cheese, old man, hard cheese. Golf after work?'

'Right-o!' replied Malcolm, returning to his charges.

'It's nice being back at work, actually,' confessed my father, turning back to me. 'Sure you won't have a gobstopper?'

'No, thanks.'

There was a flash and a burst of smoke from the closest French warship. A second later two cannon shots plopped harmlessly in the water. The balls didn't move as fast as I had supposed they would – I could actually see them in flight.

'Now what?' I asked. 'Take out the snipers so they can't shoot Nelson?'

'We'd never get them all. No, we must cheat a little. But not yet. Time is of the essence at moments like this.'

So we waited patiently on the main deck while the battle heated up. Within minutes, seven or eight warships were firing at the Victory, the cannon balls tearing into the sails and rigging. One even cut a man in half on the quarterdeck, and another dispatched a small gang of what I took to be mannes, who dispersed rapidly. All through this the diminutive admiral, his captain and a small retinue paced the quarterdeck as the smoke from the guns billowed around, the heat of the muzzle flashes hot on our faces, the concussion almost deafening. The ship's wheel disintegrated as a shot went through it, and as the battle progressed we moved about the deck, following the safest path in the light of my father's superior and infinitely precise knowledge of the battle. We moved to one side as a cannon ball flew past, moved to another area of the deck as a heavy piece of wood fell from the rigging, then to a third place when some musket balls whizzed past where we had been crouching.

'You know the battle very well!' I shouted above the noise.