Inch was peering at him. “Fair shots, I believe, sir.”

Bolitho nodded, not trusting his voice. Then he hurried to the rail and watched as the top of the headland glowed dull red, and seconds later the air trembled to a double, muffled explosion.

He heard Broome yelling at his crews to reload, the excited chatter from the waiting men on the main deck. What a strange, unnerving form of warfare, he thought. To be able to fire high over a solid land mass, unseen and unhampered by what lay beyond.

Inch rapped, “Watch your helm, Mr Wilmot!” He ran to the side and stared towards the nearest line of breakers. “We will have to wear ship if we draw much closer.”

Broome bellowed, “Ready, sir!”

Bolitho said, “Hold your fire.” He waited as a line of spray-dappled reefs drifted past the lee side. “We will be across the point at any moment.”

He tore his eyes from the glistening rocks and imagined what would have happened if the hull beneath him had been any deeper.

Inch said, “Here it comes.” Then, “There’s a fire of some sort, so we must have hit the land.”

Bolitho tried to hold his telescope steady against the jarring pitch of the swirling currents. It was very dark inside the cove, and the glowing fire which was already dying appeared to be at the far end of it, like gorse alight on a tinder-dry hillside.

“Again.” He opened his mouth and was relieved to find the shock of the next salvo was less painful to his teeth. Even so, the violent leap of the deck planking spoke much for Hekla’s builders.

There was a single bright flash, blossoming out into a great wall of fire, reflected on the sheltered water inside the cove so that it appeared to double and treble in power and size. In the few seconds before it wavered and died he saw the low black shapes of several motionless craft, and felt almost sick with sudden relief.

Allday said, “They’re in there all right.” He shifted impatiently against the rail. “I’ll lay odds that singed their bloody beards!”

Bolitho did not hear him. “Close enough, Commander Inch. Put her about and we will see what happens next.”

He walked aft to the taffrail to keep clear of the hurrying seamen as they ran to braces and halliards in readiness for wearing ship. So far, so good. The next minutes would tell whether he was wasting his time. If the pirates decided to remain in their deep cove, there would be nothing for it but to maintain a bombardment from the sea. The mortars had been impressive, but in fact could do little more but create panic under such conditions. They needed stability and a good anchorage, with spotting parties ashore to signal success and failure after each shot.

He held the rail firmly as with blocks and rigging banging and humming in protest the Hekla swung her stern across the wind, canting still further in response to rudder and canvas.