Keverne opened his mouth and then closed it again. He nodded firmly.

Bolitho said, “I will tell you now. There has been rumour of mutiny at the Nore. If any stranger attempts to approach or board this ship he will be deterred at once. If that cannot be done then he will be arrested and put in isolation immediately.”

Keverne rested one hand on his sword. “If I catch a damned sea-lawyer I’ll teach him a thing or two, sir!” His eyes blazed dangerously.

Bolitho faced him impassively. “You will obey my orders, Mr Keverne. Nothing more or less.” He turned and sought out Allday’s thickset figure by the nettings. “Call away my barge crew immediately.”

Keverne said, “You are taking your own boat, sir?”

Bolitho replied coldly, “If I cannot trust them, after what we have borne and suffered together, then I can find no hope or solution for anything!”

Without another word he strode down the ladder where the side party still waited above the swaying cutter at the entry port.

Just a moment longer he stood and looked back at his ship and at the seamen who were already busy rigging awnings and assisting the sick men through the hatchways. As was his custom he had seen that every man aboard was issued with new clothing from the slop chest. Unlike some miserly captains who allowed their men to stay in the rags worn when they were pressed in town or village alike. But right now he could find no comfort at the sight of the wide trousers and checked shirts, the healthy faces and busy preparations. Clothing, and proper food when it was at all possible to obtain it, should be their right, not the privilege handed out by some godlike commander. It was little enough for what these same men gave in return.

He shut the thought from his mind and touched his hat to the quarterdeck and side party before lowering himself down into the barge which Allday had steered purposefully between the cutter and the ship’s towering side.

“Shove off forrard!” Allday squinted into the sunlight and watched as the barge edged clear of the other boat. “Out oars, give way together!”

Then as the barge gathered speed, the oars dipping and rising as one, he looked down at Bolitho’s back and pursed his lips. He knew most of Bolitho’s moods better than his own, and could well imagine what he must be thinking now. Mutiny in the Service he loved, and to which he had given everything. Allday had discovered all about it from the coxswain of the guardboat, a man he had served with many years back. How could a secret like that be kept for more than minutes?

He ran his eye across Bolitho’s squared shoulders with their new and strangely alien gold epaulettes and at the jet black hair beneath his cocked hat. He had hardly changed, he thought. Even though he carried them all through one hazard after another.