Bolitho said, “She will be sending a boat directly. You will retain command here, Mr Meheux, until the Navarra’s future is decided. I doubt you will have long to wait.”

Meheux smiled. “I am relieved to hear it, sir.” He gestured towards an open hatch whence came the unending groan and clank of pumps. “What about our men down there? Shall I send ’em over under guard, sir?”

Bolitho shook his head. “They have worked well enough, and I suspect they’ll think twice in future before they take on a free cargo of brandy.”

Ashton called, “The flagship has signalled the squadron to heave to, sir.” He looked stronger again, although his eyes were squinting as if he was suffering from a headache.

Bolitho heard Allday growl, “My God, here comes your barge, Captain! I’ll kill that cox’n for the way he steers her!”

He said, “Fetch Witrand up here. We will take him to Euryalus with us.”

The next moments were unreal and not a little moving for Bolitho. As the barge came alongside, the tossed oars shining like twin rows of polished bones, and Meheux followed him to the gangway, he realised that most of the Navarra’s passengers were crowding the side to see him depart. Some were waving to him, and several of the women were laughing and weeping at the same time.

He thought he saw Pareja’s widow watching from the poop, but could not be sure, and wondered what he should do to help her.

Witrand stood beside him and shook his head. “They are sorry to lose you, Capitaine. Our common suffering of the past days has united us, eh?” Then he glanced at the Euryalus and added soberly, “ ’Owever, that was yesterday. Tomorrow all is different again.”

Bolitho followed Ashton and the Frenchman down into the barge where Allday was hissing threats at a rigid-faced seaman by the tiller. For a moment longer he glanced up at the rows of faces, the shot holes and the many scars where the dark-skinned attackers had hurled their grapnels to swarm aboard in a yelling horde. As Witrand had said, that was yesterday.

The return to his own command was no less overwhelming. The seamen who clung to the shrouds or swayed precariously on the yards were openly grinning and cheering, and as he clambered through the entry port, his ears almost deafened by the shrill of fifes and drums from the small marine band, he found time to notice that the normally wooden-faced marines in the guard were far from still.

Keverne stepped forward, trying not to let his gaze wander across Bolitho’s tattered clothing. “Welcome back, sir.” Then he smiled. “I have won my wager with the master.”

Bolitho tried to keep his mouth under control. He saw Partridge craning forward to see him between the swaying lines of marines and called, “You thought I would never return, eh?”

Keverne said hastily, “No, sir. He thought you would be here yesterday.”

Bolitho looked around at the massed faces. They had all come a long way together. Once, during the wretched Auriga affair, he had imagined he had seen hostility. A sense of disappointment in what he had done or tried to do. The fact that they had known him better than he had perhaps realised stirred him deeply.