Bolitho nodded to the lookout. “Keep a good eye on them.”

The man grinned. “Got nothin’ else to do, zur!” He leaned over to watch Bolitho’s careful descent and then settled down at his post. As Bolitho made his way down the rough, vibrating ratlines he heard the man humming.

He found Okes and Rennie waiting for him beside the wheel. Bolitho said flatly, “Two big ships right enough. But one of them is disabled. Probably in a collision during the night.” He rubbed his chin. “The towing ship is flying a command flag. White over blue.” He forced a smile and called to Maynard, “What do you make of that, my lad?”

The midshipman lowered his glass for a moment. “Part of the French van, sir.” He looked uneasy.

“Right.” Bolitho walked to the rail. “De Grasse will be worried about his transports. To mount an attack on Jamaica he will need more than fighting ships. He’ll have troops and supplies in other craft, like the ones we burned at Mola Island.”

Okes said, “While the fleet is engaged, de Grasse will try and force his transports this way!”

Bolitho nodded grimly. “Right again.” He snapped his fingers. “Part of the French van has been detached to clear the way for them!” He looked up at the listless sails. “And three ships only bar their way.” He turned to Rennie who was swinging his sword idly against his polished boots. “If we can turn the enemy’s van, gentlemen, Sir George Rodney will do the rest!” He slapped his palms together. “Like rabbits in a trap!”

Okes stared at the slow-moving ships ahead of the Cassius. “In this case the rabbits are bigger than the hunters, sir!”

But Bolitho had already moved away. He paused beside the minute drummer boy and asked calmly, “Give us a tune on your fife, boy.” He spoke loudly, so that the men at the nine-pounders could hear him.

The boy peered up from beneath his shako and swallowed hard. His lips were pale, and Bolitho could see his hands shaking against his tunic. “Wh-what shall I play, sir?”

Bolitho looked around at the strained, watchful faces, “What about ‘Hearts of Oak’? We all know that, eh, lads?”

And so with the overwhelming roar of battle drumming in their ears, the Phalarope’s sailors picked up the fife’s feeble lilt.

Bolitho walked back to the weather side and lifted his glass. Even aboard the Cassius the men might hear the Phalarope’s sailors singing the well-used words and gain some slight confidence.

“Come cheer up my lads,

’Tis to Glory we steer . . .”

Bolitho watched the great rolling bank of black smoke as it moved steadily towards the three British ships. It was like a living thing, he thought coldly. Writhing, and alight with angry red and orange flashes. Yet he was grateful for its presence. At least it hid the horror and the gruesome scenes beyond.

He looked down at this men, their faces momentarily engrossed in their singing. They would not have much longer to wait.