“I do not see Taylor here.”

The man, obviously the leader, said coldly, “He is with the boat.”

Bolitho looked at the others. There were four of them, and probably two more outside. All seamen, they were ill at ease and watching their spokesman with a mixture of anxiety and resignation.

“You will be seated, Captain. I have sent for some ale.” He lifted his lip in a sneer. “But perhaps someone of your standing would prefer brandy, eh?”

Bolitho eyed him calmly. The man was trying to provoke him.

“The ale will be very welcome.” He opened his cloak and dropped it on a chair. “You must be the chosen delegate?”

“I am.” He watched with mounting irritation as the innkeeper shuffled to the table with some tankards and a brimming earthenware jug of ale. “You wait in your kitchen!”

In a more level tone he continued, “Now, Captain, have you decided to accept our terms?”

“I was not aware that any had been agreed upon.” Bolitho lifted a tankard and noticed with relief that his hand was still steady. “You have taken a King’s ship. That is an act of mutiny as well as one of treason if you persist with the rest of your plan.”

Strangely, the man seemed more satisfied than angry. He looked at the others and said, “You see, lads! There’s no bargaining with the likes of him. You should have listened to me in the first place instead of wasting time.”

A grizzled petty officer replied quickly, “Easy! Mebbe if you was to tell ’im the other things like we agreed?”

“You’re a fool!” He turned back to Bolitho. “I knew this would happen. The lads at Spithead won their cause because they stood together. Next time there’ll be no damn promises strong enough to break us!”

The petty officer said gruffly, “Would you look at this book, sir.” He pushed it over the table, his eyes on Bolitho’s face. “I bin at sea man an’ boy for thirty years. I’ve never bin in anything like this afore, an’ that’s God’s truth, sir.”

“You’ll hang just the same, you fool!” The spokesman eyed him with contempt. “But show him if it makes you feel better.”

Bolitho opened the canvas-covered book and leafed past the first few pages. It was the frigate’s punishment book, and as he ran his eyes down the neatly written records he felt the revulsion twisting his stomach like fever.

None of these men could have known the effect it would have on him. They were merely trying to show him what they had suffered. But in the past Bolitho had always inspected the punishment book of any ship of which he had just taken command. He believed it gave a better picture of her previous commander than any other testimony.

He could feel them watching him, sense the tension surrounding him like a physical thing.

Most of the offences listed were trivial and fairly typical. Disorderly behaviour, disobedience, carelessness and insolence. Many of them he knew from experience would mean little more than ignorance on the part of the man involved.