He heaved and swung his legs up – they caught and he rolled over the rail, landing on the balcony with a light thump.
The curtains were drawn and he could not see who was inside. If it was Louise he was safe – if anyone else …
Taking a deep breath, he tapped lightly. There was no sound from inside so he tried again. Then he heard movement, someone coming to the window. If there was screaming …
The curtains were drawn back and it was Louise.
She stared at him, as if at a ghost, then recovered, her key rattling nervously as she unlocked the little door.
‘Quickly – come in!’ she hissed, pulling him in bodily. Before she closed the door she looked out carefully, then drew the curtains and turned on him.
‘You fool! The Citizen Watch Committee don’t trust me and are out.’
‘Louise, you’re safe. I was so worried—’
‘For now. I’m followed, watched – this is why I cannot go to your rendezvous.’
‘How will you—’
‘You must get out – now! There is no secret base here, nothing I have heard or seen in Guadeloupe. You must go, M’sieur Renzi. Go back to your ship while you can.’
HMS Hannibal did her best. An old lady of a previous war, she had neither the agility nor the deadly grace of the newer 74s and now, matched with them in line-of-battle, she was showing her age.
The flagship in the van braced up into the wind in breathless pursuit of the mock enemy, the other two astern sharpened in, but it was too much for the second in line. She tried but could not come up to the wind as close as the others and inexorably sagged away to leeward.
On the quarterdeck her captain turned red and roared murder at the sweating men set to bringing in every last inch on the sheets.
‘She’s as high as she’ll go,’ her sailing master mumbled, looking up at the sails, straining hard as boards, the tiniest flutter threatening on every weather leech.
‘If I want your opinion, Mr Maitland, I’ll beg it of you,’ Tyrell snarled sarcastically. ‘Until then, hold your tongue, sir!’
The master retired, his face set.
‘Hard in that fore topmast staysail, you vile set o’ lubbers, or I’ll see your backbones, every one, I swear!’ Tyrell bellowed forward, eyeing the flagship, whose starboard side now stretched away in full view as they fell further away from the line.
On the foredeck the raw acting fifth lieutenant, Mason, tried manfully to obey, his high-pitched voice carrying aft to the sombre group watching on the quarterdeck as he urged on his men. As was the case in so many other stations in a notorious ship unable to attract volunteers, he was short-handed and three men were few enough to put on the soaring triangular staysail.
Without warning the sail broke free. Flogging out savagely, it sent men sprawling into the scuppers.
‘God rot it!’ roared Tyrell. ‘The bloody dogs – can you believe it? They let go the rope!’ he spluttered, beside himself with rage. ‘Hale ’em all aft – every last man jack o’ the lubbers!’
They shambled up, the white-faced Mason with them.
‘It was an accident, sir,’ he began.
‘Hold your peace, Mr Mason. I’ll deal with you later.’
Tyrell stared down at the three men, his face working. ‘I know what you’re up to, you black-hearted rascals! Don’t think I don’t – I’m wise to you! Your little game is to make Hannibal look a shab before the admiral, isn’t it?’
‘Sir, it really was—’
‘Well, it won’t work, and now you’re going to pay for it.’ The men stared back in bitter resentment, knowing better than to say anything.
‘Sir, the sheet carried away. The line was rotten!’ Mason burst in.
Like a snake, Tyrell rounded on him. ‘You’re dismissed the deck, Mr Mason. Get to my cabin and wait for me there – this instant, sir!’
No one caught Mason’s eye as he turned stiffly and went below but Bowden saw the glitter of tears of frustration as he went. It was a cruel and unnecessary thing to inflict on the earnest young man and his heart went out to him.
‘You three, you’re in irons until tomorrow forenoon and then you’ll be up before me. Failing in your duty, which I daresay will earn you six at the gratings – and another half a dozen for the shame you brought on your ship.’
Ahead, the flagship had noted Hannibal’s unweatherly clawing and had considerately paid off a little until the line was whole again but it didn’t mollify Tyrell, who stumped about the deck, like a caged beast.
It was the same throughout the rest of the day, his brooding figure a malignant presence likely to appear silently from behind whenever officers or men were talking together. He did not go below until well into the evening.