Broughton said testily, “Signal Tanais to make more sail, dammit!”

As he walked away to the opposite side Bolitho heard Partridge mutter, “Her’ll ’ave the sticks out of ’er if she does, by God!”

Bolitho snapped, “Mr Tothill, get to the masthead and double quick! I need some good eyes up there today.”

He made himself walk slowly back and forth on the weather side, hating the slow pace of the squadron as he tried to picture what the other ship was doing.

“Deck there! Zeus is signalling, sir! Enemy in sight!” His voice was shrill with excitement. “A frigate, steering due east!”

Keverne rubbed his hands. “Running for Vigo, I shouldn’t wonder.”

He looked unusually tense, and Bolitho guessed he was probably picturing what might have been with himself commanding Auriga instead of Brice.

He replied, “There’s a good chance we can head her off, Mr Keverne.”

Brice had the wind almost under his coat-tails and was fairly flying across the path of his slow and ponderous consorts. The Frenchman could either try to outpace him or go about and lose valuable time trying to beat out to sea again. If he chose the latter course, one of the ships in the line might even get an opportunity . . .

He jerked round as Broughton rapped, “God damn the Valorous!” He threw his telescope to a seaman. “Now she’s falling back.”

The signal soared aloft immediately to Euryalus’s yards. Make more sail. But even as the acknowledgement broke from the two-decker Bolitho saw her fore topgallant sail disintegrate like ashes as it tore itself to fragments in the wind.

Bolitho said, “Shall I signal Zeus to chase independently, sir? She’s got a good lead.” He knew the answer already, saw Broughton’s mouth tightening as he added, “The Frenchman might still slip away from Auriga.”

“No.” One word, with nothing to show disappointment or anger.

Bolitho looked away. The Frenchman would be surprised that there was no change in the squadron’s line of advance. He was somewhere right ahead of the column, hidden by Zeus’s tall pyramid of sails, and moving very fast. But Auriga had crossed over now, and he could see her speeding downwind, every sail set and drawing its full as she tore towards the enemy. As she lifted and smashed down across the serried lines of whitecaps he could see the sunlight playing on her bared copper, and her sleek hull which shone in the glare like glass.

Zeus edged slightly out of line and Bolitho held his breath as he watched the French frigate sway momentarily into view. About five miles away. It did not seem possible that they had converged on her so quickly.

Auriga would be about three miles distant, and she had already overreached the other frigate. Bolitho tried to clear his mind, to think what he would do in the enemy’s place. Go about, or try to continue towards the land hidden below that mocking horizon? There was certainly no chance of beating the Auriga on her present course. Yet, if he made a dash for it he was almost sure to run into the arms of a British patrol along the Portuguese coast. Vigo was the last safe refuge, unless he was prepared to turn and fight.