Waddell stepped forward. ‘Men, I have assembled you all here to give you some important news. As from today, this ship is the property of the Confederate States of America. I have here the papers which confirm the sale and as soon as Captain Corbett, who brought her out, gets back to Liverpool aboard the Laurel, that change of ownership will be duly registered. She will be renamed the CSS Shenandoah and her role is to be a commerce raider. You may have heard of the CSS Alabama, which did such valiant work before she was sunk last year. The Shenandoah is to be her replacement.’

The announcement was greeted with a hostile silence. Gus saw glances exchanged amongst the crew.

Waddell continued. ‘I am offering all of you the chance to share in this great adventure. You will be fighting on behalf of a brave and oppressed people in defiance of those arrogant dictators in the north. Moreover, as a commerce raider we shall be taking prizes, and the value of these prizes will be shared out amongst you all, according to rank. You will have the chance to go home rich men. Now, who will be the first to sign up to ship with me?’

Instead of the enthusiastic response that he was obviously expecting, there was a growl of discontent and one or two voices were raised above the general muttering.

‘This isn’t what we signed up for!’

‘I shipped for a voyage to Bombay, not a raider.’

‘We’ve been had!’

More voices joined in and the mood grew increasingly angry.

Waddell raised his voice above the din. ‘I am offering a monthly wage of four pounds. That’s more than you’ll get on any other ship. And on top of that I’ll give a bounty of ten pounds to anyone who signs up today.’

There were still no takers. Gus looked at the officers lined up behind Waddell and saw them exchanging worried glances. He felt angry on their behalf and disappointed at what seemed to him the cowardice of the men who refused to sign, but he knew it would be worse than useless to speak up.

‘Very well,’ Waddell said, ‘I’ll raise my offer. Seven pounds a month and a fifteen-pound bounty for any sailor willing to ship for a six-month enlistment. Take it or leave it.’

At that a few men went, rather sheepishly, up onto the quarterdeck and signed the articles of enlistment, but the majority remained stubbornly opposed. Then there was a new development. Two of the officers began to circulate amongst them with pitchers full of grog, which was eagerly accepted, and the mood soon became less irritable. Another officer appeared on the quarterdeck, carrying a bucket.

‘Look at this, men,’ Waddell called out. ‘A share in this can be yours if you sign on.’

He dipped his hand in the bucket and pulled out a handful of something that glittered gold in the sunlight.