Okes staggered through the smoke, his breeches and coat splashed with blood and torn flesh. His eyes seemed to fill his face, and although he appeared to be shouting, Herrick could hear nothing.

Bolitho pointed with his sword. “Mr Okes, clear the larboard battery and prepare to repel boarders!” He reached out and shook the lieutenant like a dog. “Do you hear me, damn you?”

Okes nodded violently, and a long thread of spittle ran down his chin.

Bolitho pushed him to the ladder, but Herrick said quickly, “I’ll do it, sir!”

“No you won’t!” Bolitho looked wild. “Get your guns firing! It is our only chance!”

At that moment the Ondine’s guns banged out once again, and Herrick flinched as the salvo seared his face like a hot wind. He saw a party of sailors hacking away at a length of broken shrouds. In the next instant there was nothing but a squirming mass of pulped flesh and bones, with a gaping gash in the lee bulwark beyond.

Bolitho shouted in his ear, “We’ll not be so lucky next time!”

Herrick ran down the ladder, closing his eyes and ears to the horror beside him as more great blows shook the frigate’s hull like hammers on an anvil. He walked through the smoke, his eyes streaming, his throat like sand, as he shouted wild and unheeded encouragement to the powder-blackened gunners.

Farquhar caught his arm and shouted, “They’ll never cut that mast away in time!” He pointed towards the Ondine’s lower gun-deck. “They’ll not be silent for ever!”

Herrick did not reply. With the wind at her beam, and held aft by the broken mast, the Phalarope’s bows were starting to swing inwards towards the Ondine’s hull. Through the smoke he could see men running along the two-decker’s side towards the point of contact, the filtered sunlight playing on raised weapons.

He saw Okes groping towards the forecastle, his sword still in its sheath. He snapped, “Go with him, Mr Farquhar! He looks in a bad condition!”

Farquhar’s eyes gleamed coldly. “It will be a pleasure!”

Herrick flinched as a complete section of the starboard gang-way splintered skyward and one of the twelve-pounders lurched on to its side. A seaman screamed as a severed head landed at his feet, and another ran from the gun, his eyes blinded by flying splinters.

Herrick called, “Take those men below!” But as he shouted he heard the sudden clank of pumps and knew that it was probably just as safe on deck.

He tried to shut it all from his mind and made himself walk back along the line of guns. Men were falling all around him but he knew he must not falter, and shouted, “Keep hitting ’em, lads!” He waved his hat. “If you want to see England again, keep those guns firing!”

On the forecastle the men from the unemployed guns gathered below the nettings, their hands gripping cutlasses and boarding axes as the bowsprit quivered against the enemy’s forerigging. Okes croaked, “Over you go, lads! Keep those swine off our bows!”