Why not put to sea now, without further delay? No one would blame him, probably quite the reverse. He frowned and dismissed the idea immediately. This was to be a new squadron. And with the war entering its most dangerous stage so far, it would be a bad beginning for the flagship to pound an anchored consort into a bloody shambles because he had not the nerve or the will to do otherwise.

Surprisingly, Keverne smiled, showing his even teeth.

“I have not been with you for eighteen months and learned nothing of your methods, sir.” The smile vanished. “And I hope I have your confidence!”

Bolitho smiled. “A captain can only go so far to share his thoughts, Mr Keverne. His responsibility he must hold to himself, as you will one day discover.” If it goes badly tonight you may be promoted earlier than you imagine, he thought bleakly.

Trute, the cabin servant, stepped gingerly through the door and asked, “Permission to lay th’ table for your lunch, sir?”

Keverne said, “I will go and attend to the hands, sir.” He watched distantly as Trute busied himself with plates and cutlery at the long table. “I’ll not be sorry to get to sea again.” He left the cabin without another word.

As Bolitho sat moodily at his lonely table toying with the cold rabbit pie which must have been sent directly from the shore by Rook, he thought back over what Taylor had told him. The fact that he had been able to reach Falmouth and find the house so quickly spoke volumes, and suggested there were other watchful eyes already close by, ready to pass the word back to the Auriga. Any sort of deception, marines landed at the jetty or some such precaution other than normal port practice, would soon arouse suspicion, and the Auriga’s captain would be in grave danger, the consequences terrible.

He stood up angrily. How long would it take before such men were pruned from the Navy once and for all? A new breed of officer was growing up, and finding the scope to attack the enemy as well as better the living conditions of their own seamen. But here and there was the bully and tyrant, often men with influence in high places who could not be broken or removed until moments like these, when it was too late.

Trute returned and eyed him worriedly. “Did yew not like the pie, sir?” He was a Devon man and viewed Bolitho, like all Cornishmen, with both apprehension and a little awe.

“Later perhaps.” Bolitho glanced at the sword. Old and so worn, the one which appeared in many of those family portraits. “I will leave this in your care.” He tried to keep his voice normal. “I shall take a hanger.” He paused. “And pistols.”

Trute gaped at the sword. “Leave it, sir?”

Bolitho ignored him. “Now pass the word for my cox’n.”

Allday was equally surprised. “Won’t seem the same without the sword, Captain.” He shook his head. “Whatever next!”