Even Broughton had conceded they should have allowed extra time, and as the Zeus made more sail again to resume station at the head of the line he could barely hide his anxiety.

The sloop had anchored as close as she dared to the great beaked headland, her masts spiralling uncomfortably in the swell, the slim hull made to seem puny by the mass of dark rock behind her.

But now they were approaching the bay once more, with Zeus passing the anchored Restless so close he appeared to be heading straight for disaster on the point of the great beaked headland. All the ships were close hauled on the starboard tack, their yards braced tightly to give them maximum advantage from the fresh wind. The two leading ships had already run out their larboard guns, and as he trained his telescope over the nettings Bolitho saw Zeus’s lower battery was lifted to what must be maximum elevation, the double line of black muzzles appearing to scrape against the headland as she forged past. It was of course yet another illusion brought about by distance. She was a good two cables clear, and he hoped Rattray had some good helmsmen who would be ready to act very smartly when required.

Tothill shouted, “Signal from Restless, sir! The marines have reached the top of the headland!”

Bolitho turned and saw the big blue flag rippling from the sloop’s main yard, and as he moved his glass slightly beyond her he saw some of the marines scurrying around the tip of the hillside, shining in the fierce sunlight like a horde of bright red insects.

Broughton snapped, “Good. If they hold that hill nobody can shoot down on us from it.” He moved to the quarterdeck rail and watched Meheux walking slowly along the larboard line of guns.

Bolitho looked at Keverne. “You may run out now. Pass the word to Mr Bickford on the lower gundeck to gauge each shot well. His are the heaviest pieces we have today.”

Keverne touched his hat and beckoned to three midshipmen who were messengers for the gundecks. As he leaned over the rail, speaking in a sharp, urgent whisper, Bolitho watched their faces. Ashton, still pale, with his bandage around his head. Little Drury, the inevitable smudge on his round face, and Lelean of the lower gundeck, whose extreme youth was badly marred by the most pimply skin Bolitho had ever seen.

When they scurried away Keverne yelled, “Run out!” And as the order was piped from deck to deck the hull shook inwardly to the sudden rumble of trucks, the shouts of gun-captains to their crews to take charge as the massive weapons trundled down the tilting decks and through the open ports.

The air quivered suddenly to a slow and measured bombardment, the sound dragging itself out and rolling back against the headland until it seemed as if every ship had fired. In the van Zeus was wreathed in her own smoke, her black muzzles gone from view as her men sponged out frantically for another broadside.