But Broughton had not heard him. He was unbuckling his beautiful sword, and with a small hesitation handed it to Pascoe.

“Here, take it. When I needed it, I dropped it.” He added gruffly, “Any damn midshipman who tackles the enemy with a dirk deserves it!” He watched the astonishment on the boy’s dark features. “Besides, a lieutenant must look the part, eh?”

Pascoe held the sword and turned it over in his hands. Then he looked at Bolitho, but he was standing rigidly by the rail, his fingers gripping it so tightly that they were white.

“Sir?” He hurried to his side, suddenly fearful that Bolitho had been wounded again. “Look, sir!”

Bolitho released the rail and put his arm round the boy’s thin shoulders. He was desperately tired, and the pain in his wound was like a branding iron. But just a little longer.

Very slowly he said, “Adam. Tell me.” He swallowed hard. He could barely risk speaking. “That boat!”

Pascoe stared at his face and then down into the sea nearby. A longboat was pulling towards the Euryalus’s shot-scarred side, crammed to the gunwales with dripping, exhausted men.

He replied hesitantly, “Yes, Uncle. I see him, too.”

Bolitho gripped his shoulder more tightly and watched the boat’s misty outline as it nudged alongside. Beside its coxswain he saw Herrick peering up at him, his strained face set in a grin while he supported a wounded marine against his chest.

Keverne came striding aft, an unspoken question on his lips, but paused as Broughton snapped, “If you are to have Auriga, Mr Keverne, I would be obliged if you would take command here until such time as a transfer is possible!” He looked at Bolitho with his arm round the boy’s shoulder. “I think my flag captain has done enough.” He saw Allday hurrying down to the entry port. “For all of us.”

EPILOGUE

THE ADMIRALTY messenger ushered Bolitho and Herrick into a waiting room and closed the door with hardly a glance. Bolitho walked to a window and looked down at the crowded highway, his mind conscious only of sudden anticlimax. It was very quiet in the waiting room, and through the window he could feel the late September sunlight warm against his face. But down below, the people who hurried so busily about their affairs were well wrapped, and the many horses which trotted with carriages and carts in every direction gave some hint of the coming winter with their steaming breath and bright blankets.

Behind him he heard Herrick moving restlessly around the room, and wondered if like himself he was preparing for the coming interview with resignation or anxiety.

What an unnerving place London was. No wonder the messenger had treated them with such indifference, for the entrance hall and corridors had been crammed with sea officers, few of them lowlier than captains. All intent on their own worlds of appointments, ships, or the mere necessity of appearing busy in the centre of Britain’s naval power.