Bolitho watched the smoke rolling inshore and being sucked into the bay by some freak down eddy. If the Spanish garrison were in any doubt earlier, they knew now, he thought grimly.

Another broadside, again perfectly timed, the guns shooting out their long orange tongues, the ship’s reefed main topsail jerking violently in the upthrust of heated air.

Every glass was trained on the dancing lines of white-horses around and beyond the leading seventy-four. But there was still no sign of a falling shot, or any intimation that the enemy had returned fire.

Broughton said harshly, “Fair. Very fair.”

Bolitho glanced at him. Perhaps Broughton was still testing his flag captain. Feeling him out for suggestions which he might accept or scornfully reject. But he could add nothing for Broughton’s benefit. It was still too early.

He lifted his glass again as a voice yelled, “There’s a ball! Fine on Zeus’s larboard quarter!”

Bolitho watched the ball’s progress, counting seconds as the feather of white spray slashed viciously from wave to wave, throwing up a waterspout a good mile beyond the Zeus like a sliver of ice.

He heard Lieutenant Lucey whisper to Partridge, “By God, that was a long shot!”

There was another, almost exactly along the same line as before, and no less powerful.

Broughton remarked, “One gun, Bolitho. If that is all they have we need not wait much longer.”

“Signal from Zeus, sir.” Tothill was clinging to the lee shrouds to watch the leading ship. “Disengaging.”

Bolitho looked at Partridge. “How long was that?”

The master examined his slate. “Ten minutes, sir.”

Ten minutes to cross the fort’s arc of fire, during which time they had only got off two balls.

“Tanais is closing the range, sir.” Keverne steadied his glass against his forearm. “She’ll be ready to fire in a minute or so.”

Bolitho did not reply, holding his breath until the big red and black flag broke from Tanais’s topsail yard to show she was within sight of the enemy.

Falcon did not wait as long as Rattray, and his guns started belching fire and smoke almost immediately. The gunnery was impeccable, with the forward ones firing their second balls almost before the aft sections had run in for reloading.

Broughton rubbed his hands. “That weight of metal’ll give the Dons sore heads, eh?”

But the enemy remained silent as before, and Bolitho said quickly, “I think the Spaniards are using a fixed battery, sir. They were sighting shots used on Zeus, but this time . . .” He broke off as the reverberating crash of gunfire welled out of the bay, followed by a terrible sound of splintering wood.

As he strode to the rail he saw the smoke spurting from the Tanais’s poop, and a black tangle of broken rigging pitching overboard as the shots slammed into her. Two, maybe more, he thought, with another which had missed, whipping the wave crests apart like an enraged dolphin.

Something like a sigh came from the watching men as more shots hammered into the Tanais’s hull and pieces of wood whirled high into the air before splashing into the sea on either side of her.