Every so often he looked astern and was thankful to see the cutter riding in his wake, her banks of oars slashing one moment at wave crests and then buried to the rowlocks as the boat dropped into another sickening trough.

Ryan, a seasoned quartermaster, swung the tiller bar and yelled, “She’m takin’ it poorly, sir! The lads are all but wore out!”

Herrick nodded but did not reply. It was obvious from the slow, laboured stroke that the men were already exhausted and in no shape for carrying out any sort of attack. More and more Herrick was nagged by the thought that Vibart had dropped the boats too soon. Nevis Island was still only a darker patch in the night’s angry backcloth, and there was no sign at all of the chosen landmarks.

He felt a surge of anger when he remembered Vibart’s brusqueness when he had last seen him. All he had wanted was to get the boats away. No second plan, no arrangements for possible discovery had even been discussed.

The Andiron was supposed to be anchored below Dogwood Point, but even allowing for better shelter inshore, it was still likely that her captain had called extra hands to watch for possible dangers in the rising wind. Herrick had a sudden picture of his exhausted boats’ crews arriving at the ship’s side to be met with a murderous fire from the awakened and eager gunners.

Ryan was shouting again. “There’s a strong drift, y’see! It’ll carry us clear of the ’eadland, sir!” He sounded bitter. “It’ll be a long pull to clear the point at this rate.”

As if to back his words there was an anonymous rumble of voices from the darkened boat. Someone muttered, “We should turn back. There’s no chance now!”

Herrick glared down the boat. “Silence! Do you want the whole island to hear us?”

Ryan whispered, “Could we not lie beneath the point, sir?” He sounded slightly ashamed. “We could rest the men a bit an’ then try again.”

Herrick nodded, another plan forming in his brain. “Good idea. Signal the cutter, Ryan.” He took the tiller as the quartermaster opened the shutter of his lantern and blinked it twice astern. To the oarsmen he snapped, “Keep the stroke! Together, now!” There was no muttering, but he could sense them all watching him in the darkness. He added, “The rest of you keep baling, and watch the oars. I want ’em muffled at every pull!”

Ryan said, “Cutter’s turning, sir. I can see the pinnace back there, too.”

“Well, thank God for that!” Herrick forgot the grumbling seamen as the skyline hardened into a jagged overhanging cliff. It was Dogwood Point well enough, but they had drifted further than he had feared. They were not below it, but on the wrong side altogether. As he stared wretchedly at the land’s hostile outline he felt the boat’s motion begin to ease and heard the oars pick up a steadier time as the launch thrust into more sheltered water.