The running lights of the Armada filled the seascape before the bow and Robert let the sight fill his heart, steeling his nerve. He had delayed firing the decks, although they were well within range. Once the inferno took hold they would have to abandon ship, leaving the
‘Hold your course, Thomas,’ he said. ‘Wait for my signal.’
‘Aye, Captain. God speed.’
‘To us both.’
Robert picked up a boarding axe and stooped over he ran to the bow.
‘Ready the grappling hooks,’ Evardo shouted. Three sailors in the bow spread out to give themselves room. They played out their ropes and began to swing the four-pronged hooks, building momentum until they were a blur of speed. Evardo waited, watching the fall and rise of the hull of the fire-ship, knowing they had to be exact.
‘Loose!’
The grappling hooks soared across the gap, falling on the gunwale of the bow, and the crewmen pulled them fast. They held.
‘Secure the lines!’ Evardo ordered. ‘Abrahan, bear away!’
The
‘Arquebusiers, fire!’ Evardo roared. ‘Cut him down!’
The air erupted with the crack of gunfire. Accurate aiming was impossible on the heaving deck of the small ship but Evardo saw the Englishman go down. The
‘Varian!’
Robert froze at the call of his name. He looked to the bow of the Spanish patache. Morales. Anger surged through him like a hot flame. With a ferocity born from hatred of the Spanish aggressors he pulled the blade of the axe from the weathered timber and severed the second tow line. Bullets whipped past him, tearing at the loose folds of his clothes. He stepped up to the last line and struck down with all the fury in his heart. The rope parted with a whip crack.
Robert spun around and started to run aft. The
‘Now, Thomas,’ he roared. ‘Fall off! Hard over!’
Seeley eased the pressure on the tiller and the
‘Jesus save us! All hands, brace for impact!’
The crew of the
Without warning the deck beneath him heeled hard over and he fell. With incredible reflexes Abrahan was veering away from the sudden course change of the English barque, negating the power of the larger vessel as the hulls struck each other. The ships rebounded, opening a gap of five yards between them.
‘Fire! The English have fired their deck.’
‘We must withdraw!’
‘No!’ Evardo roared. ‘We stand fast. Abrahan, lay aboard! We’re too close to the fleet to risk more grappling hooks. We need to board and turn her course.’
Abrahan leaned in against the tiller and brought the
‘Men of the
‘Thomas, get to the skiff.’