Almost desperately he looked down at his spellbound men. “Well, lads, what do you say?” He pointed towards the great shimmering line of ships. “Beyond that fleet lies England, across five thousand miles of open sea. At our back is Jamaica.” He pointed down between his feet. “And below us is a thousand fathoms to the bottom!” He leaned forward, his eyes flashing with sudden urgency. “So which is to be, lads?”

The new sound of distant gunfire was drowned in the sudden wave of wild and uncontrolled cheering which swept across the Phalarope’s main deck, to be caught and carried by those aboard the captured frigate. Even wounded men who were being carried below shouted with the rest, some not knowing why, or even having heard Bolitho’s words. It was as if all the bitterness and pent-up frustrations were being swept away by their great chorus of voices.

Bolitho turned away, and Herrick who was nearest saw the strange sadness and disbelief in his eyes. He said quickly, “There’s your answer, sir!” He was excited like the others, even jubilant.

When Bolitho turned to look at him he studied the lieutenant as if he was a stranger. “Tell me, Mr Herrick, have you ever seen a sea battle?” He waved towards the horizon. “Like this one will be?” He did not wait for a reply. “I have. There is no dash and madcap victory. No hit-and-run when the game gets too rough.” He gripped his hands behind him and stared unseeingly past the other officers. “The sky is so dark with smoke that it is like hell. Even the ships cry out, did you know that?” His voice became harsher. “They cry because they are being torn apart, like the fools who man them!”

He swung round as Midshipman Maynard said hoarsely, “Flagship’s signalling, sir.”

Bolitho walked to the weather side and stared down at the listing brig. The water was already lapping over her bulwark, and only discarded corpses lolled on her battle-torn deck. He snapped, “Do not acknowledge, Mr Maynard!” To Herrick he added, “Cast off from the brig and get under way.” He looked up at the masthead. “We will steer due east!”

Herrick asked, “What of the flagship, sir?”

“Sir Robert is a gallant gentleman, Mr Herrick. But his seniority will have made him more careful than I.” He gave a short smile. “And his men may not be so keen to die on this fine day!” His smile vanished. “Now get those men to their stations, and stop this damn cheering!”

The Phalarope idled clear from the wreckage, and as the captured frigate cast off her grappling irons the little brig rolled slowly on to her beam, the bursting air bubbles tinged with scarlet as the creeping water surged triumphantly across her battered hull.

Bolitho lifted his glass as the yards went round and the deck canted slightly to the wind. He could see the frigate Volcano’s top-masts beyond the Cassius, and wondered how her captain would react to this awesome sight. Sir Robert Napier still had time to retire. One definite signal would take them all out of danger, mute witnesses as the French burst from the battle and headed for their goal.