He followed Witrand along the passageway, aware of the silence all about him. Apart from the pumps and the gentle creak of timbers, he could hear no voices at all. And that in a ship crowded with apprehensive passengers.

It was late afternoon, and on deck the sun was blinding hot, the seams sticking to Bolitho’s shoes as he followed Witrand up a ladder and on to the poop. The glare from the glittering blue water was so intense that he almost fell across some of the splintered planking, so that Witrand put out his hand to steady him.

“Well, what is it?” Bolitho shaded his eyes and looked at the other man. “I have not changed my mind. About anything.”

Witrand did not seem to hear. He took Bolitho by the arm and pulled him round towards the rail, his voice suddenly urgent. “Look yonder. What do you understand about them?”

Bolitho was suddenly aware that the ship’s main deck and forecastle were crammed with silent, watching figures. Some men had climbed into the shrouds, their intent figures dark against the limp sails as they peered towards the horizon.

Witrand held out a telescope. “Please, Capitaine. Tell me.”

Bolitho steadied the glass on his forearm and trained it across the rail. Most of the people on deck had turned to watch him, and even Witrand was studying his profile with something like anxiety.

Bolitho moved the glass very slowly, catching his breath as the small brightly coloured lateen sails swam hesitantly into the lens. Three, four, maybe five of them, each making its own gay reflection on the sea’s face, like the wings of gaudy moths, he thought.

He lowered the glass and looked at Witrand. “They are chebecks.” He watched the uncertainty on Witrand’s face. “Perhaps five of them.”

Witrand stared at him and then waved at the Navarra’s lifeless sails. “But they are moving, and approaching fast! How can that be?”

“Like galleys, m’sieu, they can travel speedily under oars as well as sail.” He added very quietly, “It is my belief that they are Barbary pirates.”

Witrand stepped back. “Mon Dieu, Le Corsair!” He snatched the glass from Bolitho and trained it towards the tiny sails for several seconds. Then he said in a more controlled tone, “This is bad. What do you know of such people?”

Bolitho looked away. “They are savage, barbarous fighters. If they get aboard this ship they will kill every man before they carry off the cargo.” He paused. “And the women.”

Witrand sounded short of breath. “But our guns are good, yes? My God, they answered your ship well enough. Surely we can smash those puny craft before they draw close?”

Bolitho eyed him gravely. “You do not begin to understand. These chebecks can manoeuvre quickly, while we lie becalmed. That is why they have survived so long, and so successfully. Once within range they will use their sweeps to get under our stern. Then they will pound us to submission. Each one will no doubt carry a heavy cannon in her bows. That is their way.” He let it sink in. “It has proved very effective. I have heard of ships-of-war lying becalmed and helpless, unable to do anything but watch as these galleys cut out one merchantman after another from the very heart of a convoy.”