Although Hal had reloaded the falconer, there was no target for him. Friend and foe were so intermingled that he could only watch helplessly as the fight surged back and forth across the open deck below him.

Within minutes it was apparent that the crew of the Lady Edwina were heavily outnumbered. There were no reserves Sir Francis had left no one but Hal aboard the caravel. He had committed every last man, gambling all on surprise and this first wild charge. Twenty-four of his men were leagues away across the water, manning the two pinnaces, and could take no part. They were sorely needed now, but when Hal looked for the tiny-scout vessels he saw that they were still miles out. Both had their gaff main sails set, but were making only snail's progress against the southeaster and the big curling swells. The fight would be decided before they could reach the two embattled ships and intervene.

He looked back at the deck of the galleon and to his consternation, realized that the fight had swung against them. His father and Aboli were being driven back towards the stern. The Dutch colonel was at the head of the counter-attack, roaring like a wounded bull and inspiring his men by his example.

From the back ranks of the boarding-party broke a small group of the Lady Edwina's men, who had been hanging back from the fight. They were led by a weasel of a man, Sam Bowles, a forecastle lawyer, whose greatest talent lay in his ready tongue, his skill at arguing the division of spoils and in brewing dissension and discontent among his fellows.

Sam Bowles darted up into the galleon's stern and dropped over the rail to the Lady Edwina's deck, followed by four others.

The interlocked ships had swung round ponderously before the wind, so that now the Lady Edwina was straining at the grappling lines that held them together. In panic and terror, the five deserters fell with axe and cutlass upon the lines. Each parted with a snap that carried clearly to Hal at the masthead.

"Avast that! "he screamed down, but not one man raised his head from his treacherous work.

"Father!" Hal shrieked towards the deck of the other ship. "You'll be stranded! Come back! Come back!"

His voice could not carry against the wind or the noise of battle.

His father was fighting three Dutch seamen, all his attention locked onto them. Hal saw him take a cut on his blade, and then riposte with a gleam of steel. One of his opponents staggered back, clutching at his arm, his sleeve suddenly sodden red.

At that moment the last grappling line parted with a crack, and the Lady Eduna was free. Her bows swung clear swiftly, her sails filled and she bore away, leaving the galleon wallowing, her flapping sails taken all aback, making ungainly sternway.

Hal launched himself down the shrouds, his palms scalded by the speed of the rope hissing through them. He hit the deck so hard that his teeth cracked together in his jaws and he rolled across the planks.

In an instant he was on his feet, and looking desperately around him. The galleon was already a cable's length away across the blue swell, the sounds of the fighting growing faint on the wind. Then he looked to his own stern and saw Sam Bowles scurrying to take the helm.

A fallen seaman was lying in the scupper, shot down by a Dutch murderer. His musket lay beside him, still unfired, the match spluttering and smoking in the lock. Hal snatched it up and raced back along the deck to head off Sam Bowles.

He reached the whipstall a dozen paces before the other man and rounded on him, thrusting the gun's gaping muzzle into his belly. "Back, you craven swine! Or I'll blow your traitor's guts over the deck."

Sam recoiled, and the other four seamen backed up behind him, staring at Hal with faces still pale and terrified from their flight.

"You can't leave your shipmates. We're going back!" Hal screamed, his eyes blazing green with wild rage and fear for his father and Aboli. He waved the musket at them, the smoke from the match swirling around his head. His forefinger was hooked around the trigger. Looking into those eyes, the deserters could not doubt his resolve and retreated down the deck.

Hal seized the whipstall and held it over. The ship trembled under his feet as she came under his command. He looked back at the galleon, and his spirits quailed. He knew that he could never drive the Lady Edwina back against the wind with this set of sail: they were flying away from where his father and Aboli were fighting for their lives. At the same moment Bowles and his gang realized his predicament. "Nobody ain't going back, and there's naught you can do about it, young Henry." Sam cackled triumphantly. "You'll have to get her on the other tack, to beat back to your daddy, and there's none of us will handle the sheets for you. Is there, lads? We have you strapped!"

Hal looked about him hopelessly. Then, suddenly, his jaw clenched with resolution. Sam saw the change in him and turned to follow his gaze. His own expression collapsed in consternation as he saw the pinnace only half a league ahead, crowded with armed sailors.

"Have at him, lads!" he exhorted his companions. "He has but one shot in the musket, and then he's ours!"

"One shot and my sword! " Hal roared, and tapped the hilt of the cutlass on his hip. "God's teeth, but I'll take half of you with me and glory in it."

"All together!" Sam squealed. "He'll never get the blade out of its sheath."

"Yes! Yes!" Hal shouted. "Come! Please, I beg you for the chance to have a look at your cowardly entrails."

They had all watched this young wildcat at practice, had seen him fight Aboli, and none wanted to be at the front of the charge. They growled and shuffled, fingered their cutlasses and looked away.

"Come on, Sam Bowles!" Hal challenged. "You were quick enough from the Dutchman's deck. Let's see how quick you are to come at me now."

Sam steeled himself and then, grimly and purposefully, started forward, but when Hal poked the muzzle of the musket an inch forward, aiming at his belly, he pulled back hurriedly and tried to push one of his gang forward.