Bolitho ran along the slewing boat and leapt for the sloop’s rail. For a moment his feet kicked above the water and then he was up and over, the breath knocked out of him as a seaman followed him across the bulwark and fell on top of him.

He struggled to his feet as the rest of his depleted party scrambled up beside him. The sloop’s one misguided defender lay open mouthed and staring in a widening pool of blood, and a second man who suddenly appeared naked at the open hatch gave a shriek of terror and fled below, slamming the hatch behind him.

Bolitho sheathed his sword and said calmly, “It will save us the trouble of seeking them out.” Then as a further volley banged out from the guard-boat he shouted, “You know what to do, Belsey! Cut the cable, and put a hand at the wheel!”

His men were yelling and shouting like madmen as they scampered about the darkened deck as if it was an everyday occurrence. From astern Bolitho heard the raucous blare of a trumpet and then the strident rattle of a drum. He could imagine the panic and pandemonium, as the sleep-fuddled crews tumbled from their hammocks in response to the call to arms.

“Cable’s cut, sir!” A voice yelled from the bows.

“Very well, let the current take her!” Bolitho ran to the rail and peered through the gloom towards the nearest transport. There were more lights now, and he thought he could see the gunports being raised along the upper-deck. Their anger will give way to prudence in a moment, he thought wildly.

“Fire the ship, Belsey!” He pointed at the foremast. “Start there!”

Fascinated, he watched Belsey’s busy seamen as they upended the riding light across a deadly mixture of oil, loose cordage and spare canvas. The result was as swift as it was frightening. With a savage roar the flames soared up the shrouds and engulfed the whole forepart of the deck. Great tongues of fire lit up the whole anchorage, so that the other ships stood out stark and tall in the inferno. Rigging and cordage flamed and crackled as the fire reached through the tarred ropes and found the neatly furled sails. Spars and planking, sun-dried and well painted, flared like tinder, so that the roaring heat reached still further, consuming the sloop greedily as the men fell back, stunned by the extent of their destruction.

Bolitho clawed his way aft through the choking smoke and away from the searing heat. He was glad that Belsey had remembered to open the hatch, and noticed that most of the ship’s crew had already jumped over the side and were either swimming or drowning while their world burned above them.

He leaned coughing on the taffrail and stared across at the big transport. Gone was the belligerence and awakened anger. Her decks seemed to be swarming with stampeding figures as officers and men dashed wildly to their stations, colliding with each other as they stared in horror at the approaching fireship.