Bolitho nodded. “Very well, sir.”

He saw Keverne watching him, his face trying hard to hide his disappointment. Denied the chance to hold command of the Auriga, he was now losing yet one more opportunity to better his position. If the Navarra could be saved, but was unfit to accompany the flagship, the prize officer who sailed her back to Gibraltar might well find himself appointed as captain.

Bolitho had obtained his own first real chance of command by the same method, and could feel for Keverne’s distress and possible resentment.

He thrust it from his mind as he signalled to the jolly boat. If the wind mounted any further there might be no prize at all within the hour.

Allday had appeared at his side and helped him into his coat as he murmured, “You’ll be wanting me of course, Captain.”

Bolitho glanced at him. Saw the sudden anxiety, like the time he had gone to the bomb vessel without him.

He smiled. “As you say, Allday. Of course.”

Getting into the boat was as dangerous as it was uncomfortable. One moment it was driving hard against the ship’s side, the next plummeting into a trough, the oarsmen fighting and cursing to stop its timbers from being stove in.

Bolitho jumped outwards and down, knowing that if he misjudged it he was likely to be sucked bodily beneath his ship’s great bilge, or be ground into the side by the careering jolly boat.

Breathlessly he crouched in the sternsheets, blinded by spray, and knocked almost senseless by his jump, which had been more like a fall.

Allday grinned into the flying spray as the oarsmen turned the boat away from the ship and started to fight back downwind.

“Nasty blow, Captain!”

Bolitho said, “These squalls can go in minutes. Or they can drive a ship to despair.” It was amazing how Allday had regained his usual good spirits now he was with him again, he thought.

When he peered astern he saw the Euryalus plunging heavily, her close-reefed topsails just giving steerage way as she edged carefully clear of the other vessel. In the steel-grey light she looked huge and formidable, and he was thankful to see Keverne had already ordered the lower gunports to be closed. The ship was rolling badly, and open ports would invite unnecessary work for the pumps, as well as adding to the discomfort of the men who had to live there.

Even in the poor light it was easy to see the Spanish ship’s savage scars. The poop and lower hull beneath it had been smashed into gaping holes in several places, the blackened timbers protruding like broken teeth as testimony of that one, reduced broadside.

Midshipman Ashton shouted, “Mr Meheux has rigged some swivel guns, sir. But the crew appear too dazed to try and retake the ship.”

Allday growled, “There’ll be nothing to retake in a moment!”

After three attempts the boat managed to get under the Navarra’s lee and eventually hooked on to her main chains. Bolitho took his dignity in his hands and jumped wildly for the entry port ladder, feeling his hat whisked from his head and his body soaked to the waist as a lazy breaker swirled up and along the hull as if to drag him away.