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shouted to Kiro.
    Over the rumble of cannon being manned into firing position, he called to the helm, ‘Lay to larboard tack.’
    ‘Aye, aye, schipper.’
    As the bowsprit swung on the steel-blue waves, Horne remembered that the crew was new and preparing the first time for battle at sea. Looking aloft, he saw small figures grabbing the braces, swinging like monkeys against the yards; the sails thundered as the Huma changed onto her new tack.
    Satisfied with their performance, Horne raised the spyglass back to his eye to study the approaching enemy. The sloop still maintained her course towards the Huma but the southerly two pattimars were attempting to bear round to enclose him. Good. He had anticipated such an action and was planning how to divide the flotilla.
    As the Huma ’sjib boom swept towards the distant coastline, he trained the glass back on the sloop, looking for any flutter of flags or pennants, some call-signals being hoisted on the sloop to send the leader’s commands to the four native vessels.
    A distant pop caught his attention. He held the glass on the sloop, seeing a wisp of blue smoke rise from the gunports. The enemy had fired on the Huma. But why sosoon? Had the blast been a ranging shot or was the commander over-anxious?
    ‘Wait fire,’ Horne cautioned Kiro.
    A second blue puff rose across the waves.
    It was often impossible to know anything about an enemy at sea, particularly an enemy in an unmarked ship. Every little movement or action must be studied for information: guns fired too quickly; an impatient turn of the prow. And as Horne looked for clues to his opponents, he likewise tried to prevent them from understanding him. He changed tactics as soon as his intentions might be recognised.
    The sloop’s commander must be the leader of the Malagasy fleet, he reasoned. The pirate lord had obviously ordered the dead man to be cast overboard in the boat. If so, what would such a blood-thirsty leader do to prisoners taken alive? Was Horne risking his men to cruel torture? Should he try to make flight while he still had a chance?
    On a course to angle between the sloop and two southern pattimars, he tried to gauge their intentions.
    ‘Deck ho,’ hailed Jud from the main mast.
    What the devil? Were more ships joining the flotilla? Horne swung the spyglass in the opposite direction and saw that the northerly two ships were also changing course.
    He had little time to ponder their movement. He had to deal with the enemy nearer to hand.
    Satisfied with the Huma ’s position relative to the pair of southern native vessels, he ordered, ‘Starboard guns—’
    Kiro held his head high, listening for the final order. His gunners’ ears were already bound with bandanas to protect their eardrums from the explosion.
    ‘—fire!’
    The deck shuddered under the cannons’ recoil.
    Watching the hit with his naked eye, Horne nodded as the mast of one pattimar collapsed from a strike. Theexplosion was like a spark in a tinder-box, the wood and sail bursting into instant flame. Why would such an inflammable ship carry cannon, let alone take part in action? Horne watched black smoke rise as the crew began diving overboard.
    Kiro’s strike on the second southern vessel had a less dramatic impact but nonetheless the ship’s crew were beginning to dive into the lapping waves.
    Horne held his glass on the smoke-laden scene to study the evacuation from the southern two pattimars; he could also see men still on board, trying to wave back the deserters. He had heard of Hindus abandoning leaders losing in battle but he had never before seen it. The native seamen were not afraid of drowning. No, honour came first. Honour prepared them for their next reincarnation.
    Aboard the Huma, Kiro goaded the starboard crew to reload grape on top of roundshot.
    Horne seized the moment to begin the second stage of his plan.
    Babcock moved alongside him. ‘Chasing the big one?’
    Horne was concentrating on the helm. ‘Steady as