'What benefits? Feeling sick, unable to touch food, spewing up my guts time and again? Where is the benefit in all that, Charles?'

'At the end of our voyage,' said Catto. 'We catch our prize.'

'I wonder.'

'Trust me. I know how to stalk a man.'

'We don't even know that he is in England,' said Seurel.

'Yes, we do.'

'How?'

'A spy will always run back to his paymaster,' said Catto, 'to pass on what information he has found out. My guess is that Daniel Rawson will have headed straight for the Duke of Marlborough. We know for certain that the Duke is still in England. He won't sail for Holland until next week at the earliest.'

Seurel was startled. 'Are you sure of that, Charles?'

'We have our own spies.'

'Yes, you've been one of them in the past.'

'I'm pleased to say that I have,' admitted Catto proudly. 'I've enlisted in more than one British regiment in order to gauge its strength and ferret out its marching orders. If they ever caught up with me — and I'll make sure they don't — I'd be shot as a deserter.'

'You're like me,' said Seurel, spitting over the bulwark then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 'You enjoy danger.'

'I thrive on it.'

The wind was freshening now and filling the sails. As the ship gradually picked up speed, it began to tilt and ride over the waves. A rhythmical creak set in as the timbers met the relentless force of the sea. Catto was interested to watch the sailors going about their duties but Seurel pulled a face and rubbed his queasy stomach. He tried to take his mind off his discomfort by renewing the conversation.

'There's something I never understand about you, Charles,' he said, brow furrowing. 'Why does an Englishman fight for France?'

'I prefer to be on the winning side.'

'Is that the only reason?'

'No, Frederic,' replied the other. 'The French army has been the finest in the world for a very long time and it is a privilege to serve under its flag. What really appeals to me, however, is that I can fight alongside men of my own religion.'