He said, “I will see that you and your husband are moved to an officer’s cabin. I understand your own was destroyed?”

“Yes. And all my trunks!” She glared at her husband. “But his were safe, of course!”

“But, my dove!” Pareja was almost kneeling to her. “I will take care of you!”

Bolitho looked away. Embarrassed and sickened.

To Meheux he said, “Have them taken to the cabin now. I must find out . . .” He broke off as a startled shout was followed instantly by a shot.

He snatched up his sword and pushed Pareja aside as he ran through the door, Meheux and Allday pounding behind him.

The sun was so bright and blinding that for a few seconds he could see nothing unusual. Several passengers were still standing by the main hatch where they had been told to wait for the issue of food. Others were caught in various attitudes of surprise or fright as they peered up at the forecastle, where two men stood behind a mounted swivel gun, training it aft, towards the quarterdeck. Beside it, one of Meheux’s seamen lay moaning quietly with blood seeping from a pistol ball in his shoulder.

Pareja called nervously, “That is the man! Witrand!”

Bolitho stood very still. One jerk of the lanyard and a blast of canister would sweep the deck from forward to aft. It would not only cut him down but most of the people in between as well.

He called, “Stand clear of that gun! You can do nothing!”

“Do not speak so foolishly, Capitaine!” The man’s voice was smooth but surprisingly loud. “Some of your men had the, er, misfortune,” he smiled, “the misfortune to discover some very fine brandy below. I fear they will be of little help to your cause.” The muzzle moved slightly. “Throw down your weapons. The Spanish seamen will be resuming their duties. I have no doubt that even they can sail the ship when required.” He was smiling broadly, his teeth very white in his tanned face. “Your own ship has gone away. There is no point in sacrificing yourself,” his tone hardened, “or others, for your own pride!”

Bolitho’s mind grappled with the problem which he was now facing. Even if he and the others still sober controlled the poop, they could not work the ship. Whereas Witrand’s swivel gun would ensure that he remained master of the upper deck, as well as all the food and water. There might be no Spanish officers left alive, but Witrand was right. The crew could manage to set sail, and it would not be long before some enemy ship appeared to investigate their behaviour.

Allday whispered, “If we cut back to the cabin we can hold ’em off with muskets, Captain.”

The voice called, “I am waiting, Capitaine! Throw down your weapons now!”

Meheux asked, “Would he fire? He could kill half of those women and children down there.”

Bolitho began to unbuckle his sword. “We are no good to anyone dead. Do as he says.”