The ship forged onwards until they found their way blocked by what appeared to be an unbroken wall of ice, thirty feet high in places.

‘She’s not built for this,’ Gus heard the captain say. ‘I’ll not risk her again in conditions like we found in the Okhotsk.’

They went about and headed south again. Gus could tell from the atmosphere in the wardroom that some of the officers were disappointed that they would not be able to add to their tally of prizes. There were even hints that they felt Waddell was too timid. But he himself was not sorry to leave the Arctic. It had been an amazing experience, and he knew that he had been luckier than most of the crew in that his job kept him in the galley, which was always warm, and the wardroom which was heated too, by a stove captured from one of their prizes; but he was tired of waking in his hammock stiff and chilled to the bone and feeling his face and hands flayed by the icy wind every time he stepped out on deck. As day followed day, the sun stood higher in the sky at midday, the weather grew warmer and everyone seemed more relaxed. The officers took to reading on deck when they were not on watch and Gus, growing bored with the unbroken routine, envied them.

Mason, seeing him hovering nearby, asked, ‘What is it, Gus? Is something wrong?’

‘I was just wondering what you were reading, sir. I liked that book you lent me about the Alabama.’

‘Did you now?’ Mason regarded him keenly. ‘You’re a bright lad, Gus. You deserve a better education than your circumstances allowed you. But I’m afraid this book would not be much use to you. It’s in French.’

‘Oh,’ Gus said blankly.

Mason suddenly brightened. ‘Tell you what. Lieutenant Chew has amassed quite a library from the ships we’ve taken and I think he might have something that would suit you. Do you want me to ask him?’

‘Yes, please, if you don’t think he’d mind.’

The next day he handed Gus a thick volume and he spent his leisure moments for some time ahead absorbed in the work of Edgar Allen Poe.

The crew, meanwhile, were not given so much chance to take it easy. Lieutenant Whittle saw this as a chance to spruce the ship up. Scaffolds were hung over the side and a fresh coat of black paint soon had the Shenandoah’s flanks gleaming, while decks darkened by coal dust were holystoned until white.

The men had their own ways of relaxing, however, and one morning the word went round that that evening there would be dancing.

Boney, hearing the news, reached into a cupboard and produced a frilly white apron. ‘Here you are, Gus. You’ll be needing this.’

‘What on earth for?’

‘You’ll see.’