Nearly three months had passed since the French flagship had blasted herself apart in one terrible explosion, during which time he had been more than fully occupied getting the battered squadron to Gibraltar without further losses, and there await orders.

As the many wounded had died or made some kind of recovery, and the ships’ companies had worked without respite to repair as much of the damage as possible under the Rock’s limited resources, Bolitho had waited for some acknowledgement of their efforts.

Eventually a brig had arrived with despatches for Broughton. Those ships ready and able to set sail would do so immediately. Not to join Lord St Vincent off Cadiz, but for England. After all they had achieved and endured together it was hard to see the small squadron scattered.

Valorous was almost beyond repair, and with Tanais, which was in not much better state, had remained at Gibraltar. With the two French seventy-fours taken as prizes the remainder had sailed, and in due course anchored at Portsmouth. There again, the necessary business of dispersal and repair was continued. But it meant bidding farewell to many more familiar faces. Keverne, who had received his just promotion to commander, had been given Auriga. Captain Rattray had been carried ashore to Haslar Hospital, where with only one leg and half blinded by splinters he would probably end his days.

Furneaux had died in the battle, and Gillmor had received separate orders to take his Coquette and join the Channel Fleet, where as always there was a shortage of frigates.

As day had followed day in Portsmouth harbour Bolitho had found time to wonder how Broughton’s report had been received at the Admiralty.

With the span of time behind him, their findings and hardships at Djafou, the last desperate battle with twice their number of the enemy seemed to fade and become less real. Broughton had appeared to feel much as he did, for most of the time he had remained aloof in his quarters or paced alone on the poop resisting every contact but the requirements of duty.

Then, just two days ago, the summons had arrived. Broughton and his flag captain were to report to the Admiralty. One unexpected addition had been for Herrick. He too was to accompany them. He had already confided that it was probably to explain more fully the loss of his Impulsive, but Bolitho thought otherwise. It was more likely that Herrick, being the only captain not completely involved in the squadron’s previous affairs, was being called as an impartial witness and to give his own assessment. It was to be hoped he would not allow blind loyalty to damage his own position with his superiors.

But whatever happened, Adam’s step on the first real rung of the ladder was secure. He had received his commission with an ease which had apparently surprised him, and even now was aboard Euryalus, probably fretting about his uncle’s future, or lack of it.

A door opened and Broughton walked through the room towards the corridor. Bolitho had not seen him since he had left the ship, and said quickly, “I hope all went well, Sir Lucius?”