“Hoist the flag,” he ordered. “As soon as they can see it signal her to stop engines and prepare for boarding.”

The helmsman brought the ship about in a smooth turn until they were sailing on a parallel course close to the steam packet.

“She’s not slowing, sir,” Fairfax said.

“A solid shot across her bows should induce her master to take proper action.”

Moments later the gun boomed out; the Trent had to have seen it but they chose to ignore it.

“Very well,” Captain Wilkes said. “Fire the pivot gun.”

This gun was loaded with an explosive shell that burst close beside the British packet’s bow. As the white cloud of smoke dispersed the bow wave on the Trent died away as her engines stopped. Captain Wilkes nodded grim approval.

“Lower the boat, Lieutenant Fairfax. You will take a squad of marines with you, muskets and bayonets. Use them if needs be. You know whom we are looking for.”

“I do indeed, sir.”

Wilkes watched in silence as the oars dipped and the boat pulled smartly toward the other ship. He betrayed none of the doubts that racked him. The broken orders, the desperate pursuit, the guesses and decisions, were part of the past. But everything he had done would be worth it if the wanted men were aboard. If they weren’t… He preferred not to think of the consequences.

As soon as the boarding ladder was dropped, Fairfax climbed up to the Trent’s deck. Wilkes could clearly see him talking to an officer there. Then he turned about to face the American warship and took a white kerchief from his sleeve. Moved it in the agreed signal from chin to waist and back again.

They were aboard!

Eustin pushed through the cabin door and slammed it behind him.

“What is happening?” Madam Slidell asked. He just shook his head and ran across the cabin to the adjoining chamber, pushed into it.

“It’s us — the Yankees are after us!” He stammered as he spoke, face pale with fear.