You rush onto the deck and are almost thrown overboard as the Invictus rocks with the impact of another shell. Space turns, blue sky and blue water blurring across your vision, till your grasping hand finds a piece of trailing rigging. You climb back onboard and make your way, hand over hand, to the aft deck. Invictus trembles and groans under your fingers. She can’t take much more of this.

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On the after deck, one of the nine-pounders is already gone, a jagged hole in the deck where it stood. Two airmen already work feverishly at the other, loading a shell and then powder into the breach. You clip yourself into a harness and rush to help. Cannon loaded, peering up through the smoke, you struggle to make out your enemy.

There she is, and what is that, fluttering in the wind?