Then, to break the spell, a man bellowed, “Kill them! Cut the bastards down!”

Pressed on by the men behind, the whole mob swept forward, only to sway to an uncertain halt as something like a gunshot echoed around the deck, followed instantly by Stockdale’s great shout of triumph.

“It’s parted! The cable’s cut!”

For a moment longer the Andiron’s seamen started at one another, and then as the realisation of their unexpected peril dawned on their minds they hesitated no longer. An officer was yelling from the main deck, and the cry was carried forward by men who had still managed to keep their heads.

“Hands aloft! Hands aloft! Loose tops’ls!”

From aft Bolitho heard his brother’s voice magnified and hardened by his speaking trumpet. “Man the wheel there!” And then as the ship trembled from stem to stern like a released animal he shouted, “Mr Faulkner! Drive those men to the braces!”

Bolitho leaned against the rail, his dirk still held across his body as the frigate heeled still further and began to fall away. Men were running wildly up the shrouds, and already a small patch of canvas was billowing and flapping against the dark sky.

The speaking trumpet called again. “Cover those men on the fo’c’s’le! Shoot them down if they try to escape!”

Belsey wiped his forehead and muttered, “If our lads is out there they’ll not want to try an’ board!” He peered at Bolitho’s tense face. “I can die in peace now, sir! I reckon we did right well tonight!”

Bolitho saw his face light up with a bright orange glow, and as he turned in surprise the air around him seemed to come alive with the searing whine of gunshot. Stays and halyards parted, and beyond his feet the deck planking splintered and cracked as a thousand balls swept across the forepart of the ship.

Farquhar pointed. “Look! The battery has fired on us!” He waved his hat. “The stupid fools have fired on their own men!”

Bolitho pulled him down. “And us! So keep your head lowered, Mr Farquhar. You may have use for it still!”

There was no further gunfire, but the one, carefully loaded salvo was sufficient. The prompt action of the Andiron’s officers and the quick response of her more level-headed sailors might have taken her clear of danger. But as the whining barrage of grapeshot swept her shrouds and yards free of men and cut down some of the hands still cramming her main deck, the last opportunity was lost. The black outline of Dogwood Point appeared to grow double in size until the ship was dwarfed beneath it. Even then it looked as if the wind and tide would carry her clear, but as Bolitho pulled his gaping companions to the deck the Andiron gave a long-drawn-out shudder, followed instantly by a tremendous crash which threw the remaining seamen from their feet.

Belsey stared up at the sky and crossed himself. “The mainmast is fallin’! My God, so is the mizzen!”