He saw the man’s white crossbelt fading in the shadows and then said sharply, “Right, Mr Okes, call up the rest of the party and keep them quiet! A flogging for the first man to make a sound!” He turned back to the bridge. There was probably a sentry at one end, if not both. It would all have to be very quick.

Okes returned breathing heavily. “All here, sir.”

Farquhar was close behind him, his face pale in the faint moonlight. He said, “I have picked Glover for the job, sir.”

Bolitho nodded. He recalled that the seaman in question was the one who had so neatly killed the first sentry.

“Very well. Send him forward.” He watched the man slide over the rim of stones and bushes and fade immediately into the deep patch of shadow before the bridge. Then he added slowly, “Now remember, men, if Glover fails to find that sentry and the alarm is given, we will have to make a rush for it.” He drew his sword and saw the lethal glitter of cutlasses along the roadside.

To Okes he whispered, “Mr Farquhar will take five men to deal with the guns and magazine. McIntosh, the gunner’s mate, will lay a good charge to blow the bridge when we fall back, understood?”

Okes nodded. “I—I think so, sir!”

“You must be sure, Mr Okes!” Bolitho eyed him keenly. Suddenly he wished it was Herrick at his side. Should he be killed before the raid was finished, how would Okes manage? He continued evenly, “According to our captive Spaniard, there is a rough track down from the battery to the inside of the anchorage. I intend to go down there as soon as the battery is taken and see what can be done about the ships in the harbour. I will try and set fire to one or more of them, and Phalarope can deal with any which make a dash for it!” He swung round as Stockdale, dragging the whimpering Spaniard behind him, strode through the bushes, his teeth white in his face.

“Sir! Glover’s just whistled! ’E’s done for the sentry!”

Bolitho stood up. If only he had a thousand men instead of sixty, he thought vaguely. They could take and hold the whole island intact until help arrived. He tugged his hat down firmly over his eyes and glanced back at his men. He was thankful that every one of them was hand-picked. There had not been a single incident so far to warrant either punishment or anger.

“Now then, lads! Quickly and quietly, and no fuss!” He waved his sword, aware suddenly that his face was fixed in a wild grin. “Follow me!”

In two files the sailors padded towards the bridge. Bolitho kept just ahead of the nearest men, his eyes straining ahead towards the deserted bridge, which all at once seemed a long way off and vulnerable.

Pad, pad, pad went the feet, and Bolitho knew without turning his head that the orderly approach was already changing into a charge. Then his shoes were booming hollowly on the wooden boards of the bridge, and from the corner of his eye he saw the angry swirl of surf, and heard the roar of a tide-race between the steep walls of the ravine. He almost fell over the spread-eagled corpse of a uniformed sentry, and saw Glover waiting to greet him, a captured musket in his hands.