He said, “I must report to the admiral.” He studied Keverne’s dark features, but even he appeared genuinely pleased to see him return to the ship. He could not have blamed him for showing opposite feelings, especially after his earlier setbacks.

Keverne said, “Sir Lucius instructed me to tell you he will be reading the despatches brought by Coquette.” He gave a wry smile. “He intimated, sir, that you might wish to take an half hour to, er, refresh yourself.” He let his eyes move to Bolitho’s torn coat. “He was watching your return from his quarter gallery.”

At that moment Witrand was assisted through the port, and Bolitho said, “This is M’sieu Paul Witrand. He is a prisoner, but will be treated with all humanity.”

Keverne looked at the Frenchman doubtfully and then said, “I will attend to it, sir.”

Witrand gave a stiff bow. “Thank you, Capitaine.” He glanced aloft at the great yards and loosely flapping sails. “A prisoner per’aps, but to me this ship must still be like a part of France.”

Lieutenant Cox of the marines, a sleek young man whose immaculate uniform fitted so tightly that Bolitho imagined it impossible to stoop in it, marched forward and touched Witrand’s arm. Together they walked towards the head of the companion.

Bolitho said, “Come aft, Mr Keverne. Tell me all the news while I change.”

Keverne followed him past the watching seamen and marines. “I would think that you have it all, sir. Sir Hugo Draffen rejoined the squadron, but I have heard little beyond that he met his agent and obtained some information about Djafou’s defences.”

Inside the cabin it was cool after the quarterdeck and the day’s mounting heat. He stared with surprise at several pieces of furniture which had not been present before.

Keverne said, “Captain Furneaux was aboard during your absence, sir. He was acting flag captain, but returned to Valorous when we received Coquette’s signals.”

Bolitho glanced at him, but Keverne’s face was devoid of amusement. Furneaux had obviously expected his new and coveted role to be permanent.

He said, “Have them sent back to him when convenient.”

Keverne leaned against the quarter windows and watched as Bolitho stripped and sluiced his weary body with cold water. Trute, his servant, took the filthy shirt, and after the smallest hesitation dropped it from an open window. Bolitho’s appearance as he had entered his cabin had made a deep and obvious impression on Trute, and he could hardly drag his eyes from him.

Bolitho pulled on a clean shirt and then sat in a chair while Trute deftly fashioned his hair into a short queue at the nape of his neck.

“Then there has been no change since my leaving the ship?”

Keverne shrugged. “We sighted a few sail, sir, but Restless was unable to close with them. So it is unlikely they saw us either.” He added, “I spoke with the sloop’s commander, but he saw nothing of Sir Hugo’s agent. He was in an Arab fishing boat, and Sir Hugo went across to her alone. He insisted.”