Lieutenant Weigall was officer of the watch and was content to keep well clear of his captain. Alone with his deafness, he stayed on the lee side, his prizefighter’s face set in its usual frown as he surveyed the men working along the upper deck.

By the poop Allday watched Bolitho’s anguish and wondered why he could think of nothing to help him. He had refused to leave the deck for a meal, and had turned on him with something like blind anger when he had tried to coax him below for a brief respite from the heat.

“Deck there!” The lookout’s voice was like a croak. The seaman was probably parched dry with thirst, “Sail on th’ weather bow!”

Allday glanced at Bolitho expectantly but he was still pacing, his face grave and expressionless. A quick look towards Weigall told him that he had heard nothing at all.

Already flags were soaring aloft on the Tanais’s yards, and Allday strode quickly to a dozing midshipman and prodded him sharply in the ribs.

“Stir yourself, Mr Sandoe!” He saw the boy staring at him with fright. “There’s work to be done!”

Then he crossed to the other side and waited until Bolitho had completed another turn along the deck.

“Captain?”

Bolitho paused and swayed wearily on the tilting deck. He saw Allday’s face swimming before him, and realised that he was smiling.

Allday said firmly, “Sail on th’ weather bow, Captain.”

“What?”

He looked aloft as the voice pealed down. “One ship, sir!”

Weigall had at last realised something was happening and was moving about the deck like a caged animal.

Far above the deck the small figure of the midshipman could be seen moving up to join the lookout. Moments later his voice floated down to all the upturned faces.

“She’s a bomb vessel, sir!”

When Allday looked at Bolitho again he was stunned to see his eyes were blurred with emotion.

Bolitho said quietly, “Thank God.” He reached out and seized Allday’s thick forearm. “Then there’s still time.” He turned away to hide his face and added, “Call the master. Tell him to lay off a course for the squadron to intercept and then,” he ran his fingers through his hair, “then we shall see.”

Later, as the Euryalus swung heavily across the wind and started on a new tack towards the small sliver of sail, Bolitho stood very still at the quarterdeck rail, while every other officer stayed at a respectful distance on the opposite side, their voices murmuring with busy speculation.

Broughton came on deck and walked to Bolitho’s side. His voice was offhand and remote.

“What is she?”

Bolitho saw Tothill’s men with their next hoist of flags and said, “There is only the one, sir, but she will suffice.”

Broughton stared at him, confused by his vague reply.

Then Tothill shouted, “Signal, sir. Hekla to Flag. Request instructions.”

Once again Bolitho felt his throat quivering with suppressed strain and emotion. The Hekla had arrived. Somehow Inch had managed to join them with neither escort nor another bomb for company.