“Of that I am certain.”

“Thank you, Captain.” She turned her face away. “You did not need to say that.”

Once again the door scraped open but this time it was Gillmor. He bobbed his head politely to her before crossing to the bed.

“I am sincerely glad to know you are recovering your health, sir.”

Bolitho saw the strain on his face and guessed Coquette’s captain had had more than his share of worry because of his own incapacity.

Gillmor hurried on, “The lookouts have just sighted the squadron returning, sir.” He breathed out slowly. “At last.”

“What are you hiding?” Bolitho felt a sudden touch of apprehension. “Something is wrong.”

“Euryalus is under tow, sir. She appears to have lost her bowsprit and fore topgallant mast. I have sent Mr Bickford in a cutter to meet the admiral.”

“I must get up!” Bolitho tried to free himself from the sheet. “Take me to my ship, for God’s sake!”

Gillmor stood aside and allowed the woman to press Bolitho back against the bed. “I am sorry, sir, but we have decided against it.”

Bolitho clenched his teeth against the pain. “We have decided?”

Gillmor swallowed but stood his ground. “Commander Inch and I, sir. There is no sense in having you die now that the worst is past.”

“Since when do you give me my orders, Captain Gillmor?”

The frustration and helplessness, the realisation he had thought more of his own suffering than of his duty to the squadron, filled him with an unreasoning anger.

She interrupted before Gillmor could reply. “Now, that is being childish! Do not excite yourself or I will call Mr Angus to you!”

Gillmor said, “I am sorry, sir. But I think we will need you very soon, and in good health.”

Bolitho closed his eyes. “No. I am the one to apologise. To you both.” Then he asked, “Is Restless with the squadron?”

Gillmor hesitated. “No, sir. But maybe she is too far to seaward to be observed by Giffard’s men.”

“Perhaps.”

Bolitho could feel himself getting drowsy again, the throbbing in his shoulder growing more insistent. It was difficult to concentrate on what Gillmor was saying, harder still to sort his thoughts into any semblance of order.

Gillmor said, “I will leave you, sir. As soon as we have any news . . .” He backed out of the room before Bolitho could protest.

“A good officer.” He felt her sit down again on the bed, the cool touch of a cloth across his forehead. “When I was his age I had a ship like Coquette. In the Great South Sea. That was another world.” It was growing more difficult to remember. “Lizards three feet long, and turtles big enough to carry a man. Unspoiled by civilisation . . .”

“Rest, Captain.” Her voice faded away as Bolitho sank into a deep, exhausted sleep.

Some hours later he awoke shivering violently and ice cold. Although the shutters were closed across the windows he knew it was night, and as he moved his head from side to side he heard Allday say, “He’s awake, ma’am!”