Proby cupped his hands and yelled hoarsely, “Tops’ls and jib’s all we need! Lively there!”

Followed by Vibart’s eyes and the urgent shouts of their petty officers the men aloft fought at the thrashing canvas, cursing the wind and the treacherous sails which tried their utmost to hurl the men from the yards to the deck beneath.

Herrick felt the ship’s motion ease slightly as topgallants and courses contracted and finally submitted to the struggling seamen. He watched the long cruising rollers and gauged the distance between them. It would be more sheltered below Nevis’s lee, he thought, but even so it would not be easy to keep the raiding boats together. He caught sight of Okes standing at the lee rail, and found himself wondering why Vibart had not chosen him for the cutting-out expedition. If Okes was so changed and reliable, he was the obvious choice.

Captain Rennie sauntered across the quarterdeck and remarked quietly, “Congratulations, Herrick. I hope you do well tonight. I wish I could come with you, but marines are hardly suitable for falling about in boats!”

Herrick smiled. “Thank you.”

Rennie gestured towards Okes. “It would seem that our commanding officer knows more than we thought, eh? He will not trust this attack to a man who is as weak as water!”

Herrick glanced quickly at the open skylight. “Keep your voice down! Your remarks might be taken seriously!”

Rennie shrugged but dropped his voice. “I feel past caring. Like a man walking on ice. It can only take so much!”

He walked away, and Herrick stood watching the seamen shinning down from the work aloft. If only Bolitho were here to inspire and carry them all, he thought heavily. He could imagine the Phalarope sailing into Antigua with Vibart expanding with pleasure as cheers and congratulations marked their return to the fleet and to glory. It would make victory all the more bitter, he thought. But for Bolitho the Phalarope would never have got this far, and if Vibart retained his command the future was bleak indeed.

Tobias Ellice rolled aft and mounted the quarterdeck ladder, touching his shabby hat and belching simultaneously. “Kirk’s dead,” he grunted abruptly. “I’m having him sewn up nice an’ neat like!”

Herrick replied, “Very well. I’ll put it in the log.” He could smell the rum on the surgeon’s breath and wondered how the man was able to perform his duties.

Ellice said, “You can also put in the log that I’m sick of this ship and the whole bloody lot of you!” He swayed tipsily and would have fallen but for Herrick’s arm. He muttered, “Treat ’em like dogs!” He shook his head vaguely. “No, not dogs, they live like kings by comparison.”

Herrick regarded him wearily. “Have you finished?”

Ellice took a giant red handkerchief from the tail of his coat and blew his nose loudly. “You can sneer, Mr Herrick! You’re off to gain glory tonight and to test your steel against the enemy.” He bared his teeth and tried to focus Herrick in his rheumy eyes. “But you’ll change yer tune when you’re down below waiting for the saw to lop off your pretty arm or take away a leg or two!”