Bolitho felt suddenly very calm. As if his body was suspended in the air. “Thank you for reminding me, Sir Hugo.” He was amazed at the sound of his voice. Like a complete stranger’s. “At least we will be able to dispense with all pretence from this moment onward.” He turned and walked quickly towards the companion ladder.

He found Keverne pacing back and forth on the quarterdeck, his face deep in thought.

“Signal Valorous to relay the admiral’s order to Restless. She is to up anchor and close with the flagship immediately. She will then take Sir Hugo Draffen aboard and act under his instructions.” He ignored Keverne’s curious stare. “You may then secure all guns and have our people fed. Well?”

Keverne asked, “Shall we withdraw, sir?”

“Attend to the signal, Mr Keverne.” He looked dully at the distant hills. “While I do some thinking.”

He turned as Lieutenant Sawle appeared below the quarter-deck accompanied by Witrand.

“Where are you taking the prisoner, Mr Sawle?”

The lieutenant stared at him blankly. “He is to be transferred to the sloop, sir.” He seemed confused. “Lieutenant Calvert says it is at the admiral’s bidding.”

“Come here.” Bolitho watched the Frenchman climbing lightly up the ladder, forgetting for the moment his earlier contempt and anger at Draffen’s threat.

“I will say farewell, Capitaine.” Witrand stretched and sniffed the warm sea air. “I doubt we will meet again.”

“I did not know of this, Witrand.”

“That I will believe, Capitaine.” Witrand eyed him curiously. “It seems that I may be expected to aid your cause. A joke, eh?”

Bolitho thought of Broughton’s growing desperation. He might have agreed with Draffen to allow Witrand’s transfer to the sloop in the hopes he would give away some secret about his own mission.

He replied quietly, “A joke. Perhaps.”

He shaded his eyes to watch the Valorous as she hoisted Broughton’s signal to her yards. Somewhere, hidden around the beaked headland the anchored sloop would see it and come hurrying to do his bidding. Witrand would probably stay aboard her and later be conveyed with despatches to Gibraltar.

Bolitho held out his hand. “Goodbye, m’sieu. And thank you for what you did on my behalf.”

The Frenchman’s grasp was firm. “I ’ope that one day we will meet again, Capitaine.” He shrugged. “But . . .”

He broke off as Sawle and two armed seamen appeared on the quarterdeck. He added quickly, “If anything should ’appen to me. There is a letter. For my wife in Bordeaux!” He dropped his voice. “I would be grateful!”

Bolitho nodded. “Of course.” He watched Witrand being escorted to the entry port to await a boat. “Take care.”

Witrand tossed him a casual wave. “You also, Capitaine!”

An hour later Bolitho was still pacing up and down the weather side oblivious to the searing heat which had turned his shirt into a sodden rag, or the blinding glare thrown back from the sea.

Draffen had been transferred to the sloop and had already disappeared around the out-thrust curve of the coastline, yet he had hardly been aware of anything but Witrand’s simple request.