He staggered to a halt and blinked through the haze of acrid smoke. In the pale morning light which filtered down the steep ravine he could clearly see the remains of the bridge. There was no point in climbing the steps now. There was no way back to the beach.

A seaman ran dazedly past him and stared open mouthed at the wreckage. “You bastards!” His voice shook with despair. “You damn, cowardly bastards!”

“Silence!” Bolitho pushed the man back with the others. “No doubt there was a good reason for blowing the bridge this early.” But he saw the look on Stockdale’s face and knew that he had seen the lie in his eyes.

Belsey moaned and leaned against Stockdale for support. “They left us to die! Ran to save their precious skins!”

Bolitho held up his hand. “Quiet!” He cocked his head. “Listen!”

A seaman said sharply, “Over there, sir. I heard somethin’, too.”

They scrambled over the smoking, splintered timbers until the first seaman fell back with a gasp of horror. Midshipman Farquhar was sitting propped against the ravine’s rough wall, his body pinned in position by a great baulk of timber, and lying close by his side was a neatly severed leg.

Farquhar opened his eyes and croaked, “Thank God, sir! I thought I was going to die alone!” He saw their expressions and managed a painful grin. “It’s not my leg, sir! It belongs to our Spanish prisoner!”

Bolitho glanced around him and then up at the brightening sky. “Right. Lift that timber off him, and be very careful!” He knelt beside the midshipman and ran his hands swiftly beneath the massive beam, keeping his eyes on Farquhar’s taut features as his fingers probed at his trapped body.

Farquhar said between his teeth, “Nothing broken it seems!” He lay back and closed his eyes as the beam quivered and began to move. “I was looking for you, sir. Then I returned to the magazine and saw that the fuse was almost burned through!” He sounded near breaking. “I seized our Spaniard and ran for the bridge, but just as we reached it the whole thing blew up and dropped into the ravine.” He winced. “And us with it!”

The beam was dragged clear, and Bolitho tightened his jaw as he saw the smashed remains of their prisoner. He asked harshly, “How did it happen?”

Farquhar allowed himself to be lifted to his feet. Immediately his legs buckled, and Stockdale said gruffly, “ ’Ere, I’ll take the young gentleman, sir!”

Farquhar clung to Stockdale’s shoulder and said, “Sorry about all this, sir. I’ll be all right in a while.” He remembered Bolitho’s question and said vaguely, “I can’t understand it, sir. I still can’t believe it happened.”

Bolitho pulled the dirk from Farquhar’s belt and handed it to one of the seamen. “Here, make a good splint with this for Mr Belsey’s arm. It will suffice until we get back to the Phalarope.”

Belsey watched the men’s awkward fingers and groaned. “Watch what yer doin’! You’re like a pair of blind whores!”