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I understood to be a healing lotion. It smelt so strongly it made my eyes water, and caught in the back of my throat. It stung the small cuts and abrasions on my fingers, just putting it on, so I could imagine how muchit burned an open flesh wound. George’s muffled shrieks grew more intense. Then I bandaged up the wound, helped George to his bunk, and went back on deck.
    The sky had grown darker. The wind picked up, and a chill drizzle began to fall. I could see at once that the
Isabelle
had recovered from our initial lucky shot. She was still following us determinedly, although gaining on us at a slightly slower pace.
    I tried to put a brave face on it, and turned to Filip Anders. ‘At least she’s not fired at us again,’ I said.
    He shook his head. ‘That’s not good news at all. Her captain’s so confident in catching us, he’s probably ordered his men to fire no more gun shots. These pirates are determined to take us as a prize. They don’t want to damage their booty.’
    Before Anders could say any more, Rushford shouted for us all to gather around him. ‘The Frenchman is getting closer,’ he said. ‘Soon she’ll be peppering our decks with musket and pistol shot. It’s time to take up our own small arms and prepare to repel boarders. And remember, those of you with cutlasses, never raise them above your head to cut down a man. Any skilled and nimble opponent knows that this is the best time to strike. Keep your defence up at all times.
    â€˜Mr Clay. You and your gun crew are to load withgrapeshot, then move the gun to the starboard side of the quarterdeck. When the
Isabelle
comes alongside you are to fire across the length of the ship, just as her crew prepare to board us. The rest of you are to take up positions along the rail, and conceal yourself as well as you are able. Finally, I need two of you to go to the top of each mast, to fire down on the enemy.’ He looked around the crew and his eyes alighted on me. ‘You go to the foremast, Sam,’ said Rushford. ‘Keep yourself well hidden, lad, or they’ll pick you off like a sparrow on a garden wall. And don’t fire unless you’re certain of hitting someone.’
    The Captain had never called me by my first name before, and at first I was comforted by this unexpected show of affection. Then I realised he had spoken to me like that because he felt in his bones that we were minutes away from death.
    We went at once to the ship’s armoury. Two loaded pistols were placed in my hands, weapons which I had fired perhaps twice before in my life, and certainly never in anger. I was also presented with a cutlass, a weapon which I had never even held before. Then, with our sails between me and the Frenchman, I hurried to the top of the mast, doing my best to keep from view. Peeping out from between the sails I could see that the
Isabelle
was nearly upon us. On her deck I counted thirty men at least, crouching under cover from our occasional musketshots, and with their grappling hooks at the ready. We were outnumbered at least two to one.
    On our deck I could see Clay and his gun crew hiding by their gun, ready to unleash a lethal shot. This at least might even the odds a little. I was surprised that I did not feel more frightened – after all, our enemy had made it plain she would take no prisoners. But when fear rose in my chest I glanced over to the shore at St Alban’s Head and told myself that we were only five miles away from land. If the ship were overrun I could leap down from the mast and into the sea, and swim to safety. When other, more doubtful, thoughts entered my head, I shooed them away. I had to believe I was going to survive this battle...
    The
Isabelle
drew closer, and lead shot began to thud into the side of our ship with some regularity. As she placed herself alongside she fired a single shot at our own gun, which was poking out at an angle from the stern. The