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spread alarm and confusion. At this point from concealed positions inland Lieutenant Clinton will order his marines to open a hot fire, which will dismay the defenders, they not knowing his force or what they face.
    ‘Caught between three lines of attack, he’ll be in a sad moil and that’s when we strike home. Questions?’
    After several minutes’ digesting the details of this unconventional cutting-out action, Curzon broke the silence: ‘Just the one, sir. Any signal hoisted on the, er, island will necessarily be seen by even the most dim-witted o’ the French. How, then, are we to preserve our surprise?’
    Renzi came in: ‘The ancients got there before us, of course, gentlemen. You will recollect that, at Thermopylae, news of the advance of the Persian host under Xerxes was relayed across the plains to King Leonidas of Sparta by—’
    ‘Be s’ kind as t’ spare us your history, Mr Renzi, we’ve a war to figure.’
    Gilbey’s sarcasm brought a frown from Kydd. ‘Do fill and stand on, Renzi, old chap. We’re all listening.’
    ‘—by polished shields flashing in the sunlight. I rather thought a mirror in our case,’ he added.
    ‘Just so,’ Kydd said, with satisfaction. Renzi had on more than one occasion retrieved a situation by recourse to his classical education. ‘Taking care to shield it from being spied by the corvette, naturally.’
    ‘Um, er—’
    ‘Mr Bowden?’ He acknowledged the third lieutenant.
    ‘This floating island, sir. If it’s to be brought alongside the Frenchy – er, how does it steer, as we might say?’
    ‘A boat grapnel. The corvette is moored on the inside of the bend. The grapnel is cast overside when still out of sight and paid out until we are near abreast. Hauling taut on the line will cause the island to swing into the bank.’
    There was a ripple of approval. It was shaping up.
    ‘It’ll in course be m’self commanding on the island,’ Gilbey pronounced.
    ‘As first lieutenant your duty is the main attack, not the diversion,’ Kydd said shortly. ‘I shall take care of that.’
    ‘What will be our force in its entirety, pray?’ Curzon asked.
    ‘Every boat that swims, all the Royals with our idlers as their loaders. And all volunteers, mark you. You shall be second to Mr Gilbey and Mr Bowden will taste command of a frigate for the first time.’
    Bowden jerked upright. ‘Sir, I must protest! This is—’
    ‘You object to a frigate command at your age, sir? Fie on you!’ Kydd chuckled. ‘No, younker, I need to know
L’Aurore
is in safe hands while we’re away. Can you think of a better? Oh, and you shall have Mr Renzi for company,’ he added firmly.
    ‘This’ll do,’ Kydd muttered quietly. Poulden brought the barge to the riverbank safely, lower down the river from the corvette, and the ‘island party’ sprang ashore: gunner’s mate Stirk, who would not be denied his place; boatswain Oakley, who had sworn that only himself could be relied upon with the grapnel; boatswain’s mate Cumby, who had demanded by right to be at his side; Pearse, the raw-boned master’s mate, with a yen to have something to boast of when he returned home; and Wong Hay Chee, former circus strongman and inseparable friend of Stirk.
    Nearby, the launch and both cutters began setting the Royal Marines ashore with their number twos – the idlers, those such as the sailmaker’s crew, and stewards who did not stand a watch at sea but could be relied on for the mechanical task of reloading muskets.
    There was a three-quarter moon riding high and Kydd cursed under his breath. The assembling men were in plain view, and even if they were doing their best to stay quiet, the clink and leather slap of equipment seemed so loud in the night air. ‘L’tenant Clinton,’ he whispered hoarsely, to the Royal Marines’ officer, ‘do you prove your men’s weapons. If any fires accidentally, I’ll personally slit his gizzard and after that I’ll court-martial the villain. Is that