'Signal from flag, sir,' said Lieutenant Keene to Captain Hope as Drinkwater came aft.

'Well?'

'Our number. Chase.'

'Acknowledge,' said the Captain, 'Mr Keene put the ship before the wind.'

Drinkwater assisted making up the answering signal as the lieutenant turned to bellow orders through his speaking trumpet. Bosun's mates chivvied the people and the helm was put up. Cyclops swung to the east, the braces rattling through the sheaves as the yards swung round.

'All sail if you please Mr Keene.'

'Aye, aye, sir!' There was enthusiasm in the lieutenant's voice and a ripple of excitement ran through the ship. Free of the constrictions necessary in keeping station the frigate spread her wings. Clew and bunt-lines were cast off the pins as the topmen spread out along the footropes loosening the canvas. As the master's mates stationed at the bunt of each sail waved to the deck the order was given to sheet home. The topgallants billowed, collapsed and billowed again as the waisters tallied on to the halliards and the yards rose from the caps. Cyclops leaned to the increase of power, the hempen rigging drew tight and the vessel began to tremble gently as she gathered speed. The frigate surged through the dark Atlantic, the white vee of her wake creaming out from under her transom.

On deck the watch changed and the waist cleared as men, drawn on deck by the excitement, went below again.

Drinkwater found the captain staring at him. 'Sir?' he ventured.

'Mr, er…'

'Drinkwater, sir.'

'Ahh. Mr Drinkwater take a glass to the foremasthead and see what you make of her. D'you think you can do that?'

'Aye, aye, sir.' Drinkwater took from a rack an exceedingly battered telescope which was provided by a generous Navy Board for the exclusive use of the ship's 'young gentlemen'. He started for the foremast rigging.