Boney looked at him. ‘If you’ve any sense you’ll forget that. For present purposes you’re American.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Gus said.

‘Do you want to spend the next ten years in an English jail? The Americans are belligerents in someone else’s war, so the British authorities have no jurisdiction over them. But we broke the law when we signed up. Get it?’

‘I suppose so,’ Gus murmured uneasily.

The roll-call continued. Amongst the polyglot crew, those who belonged to other nationalities admitted it and were sent to join the Americans. The English, the Scots and the Irish, in a variety of accents, all claimed American citizenship. When Gus’s name was called, Boney grabbed him by the ear.

‘You are an American, born and bred in South Carolina if anyone asks. Go!’

Gus’s knees were shaking so hard as he stood before Captain Painter that he felt sure his lie would be detected, but the captain merely sighed wearily and waved him over to the port side with the others.

By the time the roll-call was complete the entire crew had moved from one side of the ship to the other. Gus saw Painter exchange looks with Captain Waddell, who merely raised his eyebrows and shrugged. For a few seconds Painter seemed to hesitate, then he shook his head and shrugged in his turn.

‘Very well. You are all free to disembark. The ferry alongside will take you ashore.’

There was a muted cheer and men turned away to pick up their dunnage and head for the tug alongside.

* * *

‘Oh, come on, May!’ Patty’s tone was exasperated. ‘There’s no point in hanging around here all afternoon. Nothing’s happening.’

‘No, wait!’ May was straining her eyes through the gathering mist. ‘Something is happening. I can see men climbing down into that tugboat.’

There was a tense wait while the tug filled up and then cast off and headed for the Albert Pier. Finally, it was made fast and the men on board began to file up the gangplank, carrying their bags and shouldering sea chests. A small crowd had gathered to watch and May had to dodge between the bodies to see their faces. One after another they passed and headed away along the dock and she began to believe that Gus had not been on board after all. Then she saw a bright ginger head coming towards her. For a moment she was gripped by uncertainty. Could that be Gus? He was so much taller, his shoulders were broader; even the way he walked was different. This was not the scrawny, defensive boy she remembered. He was almost past before she found her voice.

‘Gus!’

He checked his stride and glanced round, looking for the source of the voice.

‘Gus, it’s me! May! Over here!’