Belsey said, “I’d like to take a few of the buggers with me!”

Bolitho drew the dirk from his breeches and held it glinting in the lamplight. “Lead the way, Stockdale. If we can get to the forecastle there is something which we can do to provide a diversion!”

Farquhar picked up the dead guard’s cutlass and murmured bleakly, “Are you thinking of the cable, sir?”

Bolitho shot him a swift glance of approval. “The ship is already dragging hard at her anchor. If we could cut the cable she would be in serious danger. Our men are out there somewhere, and they will soon pull clear when they see Andiron drifting towards the point!”

Belsey broke in excitedly, “The Andiron’ll have to make sail, sir! Even then she might not be in time! She’ll run hard aground with the wind in this quarter.”

“Begging your pardon, sir.” Stockdale looked at Bolitho sadly. “They’ve already got a strong anchor party in the bows looking out for trouble!”

Bolitho smiled coldly. “I’m not surprised.” He gestured to the others. “Come, we have little time.” As they crept along the passageway he added, “Remember that nine-pounder on the forecastle, Mr Farquhar?”

Farquhar nodded, his eyes gleaming. “Yes, sir. One of the bow-chasers!”

Bolitho paused below a narrow ladder, straining his eyes towards the hatch above. It might just work. They would all die for their efforts, but he knew that each man now understood that well enough.

He said quietly, “The gun was lashed there while the rail was being repaired from Phalarope’s mauling. If it were cut loose now, in this gale, it would run amuck like a maddened bullock!”

Belsey sucked his teeth. “My God! A nine-pounder weighs well over a ton! It’d take a bit of holding down!”

Bolitho said, “If I cut the lashings, Stockdale, could you . . . ?”

The man grinned down at him. “Say no more, Captain!” He swung the heavy axe. “Just a few minutes is all I’d need!”

“A few minutes are all you’ll get, my lad!” Bolitho eased himself up the ladder and peered through the hatch. Again the whole deck area was deserted. He stared up the next and final ladder, then said, “You can stay behind, Belsey. You can’t fight with one arm.”

“Nor can I sit an’ do nothin’, sir!” Belsey eyed him stubbornly. “Never mind me, sir. I can still do a bit.”

Any sound made by their stealthy footsteps was drowned by the creak of spars and the thrumming rattle of shrouds and rigging. Bolitho peered quickly at the nearest line of lashed guns and the shadowed shapes of their crews. Most of the men were lying on the deck or resting against the bulwark, and only a few were stiff on their feet. And they were watching outboard, their eyes only just raised above the hammock nettings.

Bolitho saw the solitary nine-pounder, its long outline jutting aft towards the main deck. He could hear it creaking gently, as if angered by the lashings which held it tethered and impotent beside the capstan.