But as he watched he saw the first guns on the upper-deck lurch back at their ports, and then in the twinkling of an eye the whole upper battery erupted in one deafening broadside.

Herrick fell back, half stunned by the volume of the combined sounds of exploding guns, followed instantly by the demoniac scream of balls above his head. The nets which Bolitho had ordered to be placed over the main deck jumped and vibrated to falling wreckage, blocks, severed rigging and whole strips of blackened canvas. But Herrick stared up with amazement as he realised that the ill-aimed broadside had missed everything vital to Phalarope’s movements. Not a mast or spar had fallen. Had it been the lower battery, he knew that the frigate’s starboard side and gunports would now be a shattered ruin.

He heard the gun captains shouting like demons. “Run out! Heave on the tackles! Stand clear!” Then with the jerk of trigger lines the guns rumbled back to the full extent of their tackles.

A musket clattered by Herrick’s feet, and as he stared upward he looked into the dead eyes of a spread-eagled marine who had pitched down from the maintop on to the net below.

But he forgot the marine immediately as something more terrible took his attention. Through the smoke, falling like a giant tree, he saw the Ondine’s mizzen mast. It was impossible, but it was happening. Mast, top and topgallant, with all the attendant weight of sails, rigging and yards, hung in the air as if caught in a strong wind. Then, amid the screams and desperate cries of those men caught like flies in the shrouds, it crashed down across the Phalarope’s quarterdeck. The hull quivered as if the frigate had hit a reef, and as Herrick ran aft to the ladder he felt the Phalarope shake from truck to keel and then begin to swing slowly to starboard. Like an unyielding bridge the Ondine’s severed mast held both ships together, and as a fresh burst of musket fire struck foot-long splinters from the deck, Herrick fought his way up the ladder and stared with dismay at the destruction around him.

A complete yard had fallen amongst Rennie’s marines, and he turned away from the smashed, writhing remains as Sergeant Garwood roared, “Stand to! Leave those men alone!” He was glaring at the remainder of his marines. “Rapid fire on her poop, my lads!” He vanished in a fresh cloud of smoke as the frigate’s guns fired again, the shots crashing into the Ondine’s hull, which at the nearest point was ten feet clear.

Herrick pushed past the struggling seamen who were trying to hack away the French rigging and dropped on one knee beside Bolitho. For a moment he thought the captain had been hit by a musket ball, but as he slid his arm beneath his shoulders Bolitho opened his eyes and struggled into a sitting position. He blinked at Herrick’s anxious face and said, “Keep the guns firing, Herrick!” He peered up at the enemy ship alongside and pulled himself to his feet. “We must stop them boarding us!” He groped for his sword and shouted harshly, “Cut that wreckage away!”