There was a sudden commotion in the passageway and he heard Allday say angrily, “It is no use! You cannot go in there!” And then in a strange, heavy accent, “Eet ees no bloody good, See-nora!”

But the door rocked back on its broken hinges and a woman stormed into the cabin, her eyes blazing as she said, “Ah, there you are, Luis! Everyone is waiting to hear what is happening! And you stand here making gossip like some fishwife!”

Bolitho looked at her with surprise. She was tall and had long hair, as dark as his own, and was wearing what must be a very costly blue gown. But it was smeared with salt stains, and there were darker patches near her waist which he guessed were blood.

Pareja was embarrassed and said, “This is my wife, Captain. Like yourself, she is English.”

Bolitho moved the remaining chair towards her. “Please be seated, señora.”

She was nearly a head taller than her husband, and at a guess some twenty or so years younger. Striking rather than beautiful, her features were dominated by very dark eyes, and a mouth which was now set in a line of stubborn determination and anger.

“I will not be staying.” She looked at him for the first time. “All the others have been talking of my husband’s new importance in your eyes. I merely came to see that he did not make a fool of himself.”

“Now, my dove!” Pareja stepped back as she swung to face him.

She said, “Do not dove me! You promised to take me away from the war, and from fear of war! And as soon as we are at sea what happens?” She gestured with something like contempt towards Bolitho, “This one seizes our ship, and nearly kills us all in doing it!”

Meheux snapped, “Hold your tongue, madam! Captain Bolitho is a King’s officer and you’ll do well to remember it!”

“Captain, is he?” She gave a mock curtsy. “We are honoured indeed.”

Allday made as if to seize her from behind but Bolitho shook his head.

“I am sorry you have been inconvenienced, Señora Pareja. I will do what I can to ensure you are all returned to Malaga just as soon as I can arrange it.”

She had her hands on her hips, and he could see her supple body trembling with her anger.

“You know that is unlikely, Captain. We will more likely be pushed from ship to ship, suffering indignities at the hands of your sailors, until we are left stranded in some port. I have heard of such things before, believe me!”

She had a strong voice, like her limbs, and she appeared to be well able to take care of herself. Yet as she stood in the scarred cabin, her dress still showing the marks left from the storm and from tending the wounded, Bolitho could hear her voice giving away something more. Desperation, but not fear. Disappointment, rather than any horror at her predicament.