After what must have been an hour’s labour, the furnace was roaring. Will was covered in coal dust, his once-decent shirt streaked with black, and his shoulders were aching. Anton’s jaw was set, his eyes half closed.

“Oi,” Will said. “I want a drink.”

Anton just grunted. Will said, “Did you hear? I’m done. I need a rest.”

“Shut up.”

There was a familiar-sounding misery in his voice. “Feeling sick?” Will enquired sympathetically. “It’s the up and down, isn’t it?”

Anton made a thick noise. Will nodded. “You should have been there when we crossed for France the first time. Storms all the way. Up and down, up and down.” He rocked his hand rhythmically. “There was men all along the rails, puking their guts out. Over the side, into bags, and if they couldn’t find a bag just heaving on the floor so it splashed on your boots.” He did his best imitation of the sound of violent retching. Anton’s eyes widened. He turned, and scrambled up the ladder in a hurry.

Will grinned to himself and followed a moment later, once he’d put his jacket over his filthy shirt. He stuck his head cautiously out of the hatch, to see Anton vomiting noisily over the side of the yacht, and Lord Chingford glaring at him, gun in hand. “Get back down.”

“No,” Will said. “If I shovel any more coal the boiler will explode. I need a drink and a rest.”

“I said, get back down!”

“Fuck off. What are you going to do if you shoot me, get off your arse and work?”

Knowle arrived. “What is going on?”

“I need water, food, rest, and some air,” Will said. “Furnace is fully stoked. And you’ll show me Kim and the girls are all right or I won’t touch another coal.”

Knowle’s eyes flickered, calculating. Will had done the numbers as well. Knowle’s party had the upper hand, but not by that much, with Anton indisposed, and a boat he couldn’t sail himself, and an urgent need to reach the Continent. He needed to keep the rest of them cooperative till they reached the other side. Or, at least, that was what Will hoped. They’d be in trouble if he was wrong.

“Come up,” Knowle said at last. “Lord Arthur, over here. You stay together, by the side, and don’t move. Lord Chingford, keep them covered.”

Will went and stood by the edge of the boat as ordered, legs stiff. It was approaching twilight by now, the sky streaked with deep pink, blue and purple, and the chilly sea wind was a blessed relief on sweaty skin. White sails billowed above him, and the waves didn’t seem quite as drastic from here as they’d felt in the engine room.

Kim came up to join him. He looked cool and collected, except for the expression in his eyes. “Will.”

“All right?”