The other man stared at him. “But, sir, are you not the flag captain? One show of force, a full-scale attack, and these scum would soon lose the heart for mutiny!”

Bolitho shook his head. “The new squadron has not been formed as yet. Every ship is elsewhere, or too far to be any use. My own is at Falmouth. She could be on the moon for all the help she can be to you.” He hardened his voice. “I have heard some of the grievances and I can find little if any sympathy for your personal position.”

If he had struck Brice the effect could not have been more startling. He jumped to his feet, his thin mouth working with anger.

“That is a damnable thing to say! I have worked this ship to the best of my ability, and I have a record of prizes to prove it. I have been plagued with the scum of the gutters, and officers either too young or too lazy to enforce anything like the standard I expect.”

Bolitho kept his face impassive. “Except for your senior, I understand?”

Before Brice could reply he rapped, “And kindly sit down! When you address me you will keep a civil tongue in your head!” He was shouting and the fact surprised him. It must be infectious, he thought. But his sudden display of anger seemed to have had the right effect.

Brice sank on to the seat and said heavily, “My first lieutenant is a good officer, sir. A firm man, but that . . .”

Bolitho finished it for him. “That is what you expect, eh?”

Beyond the bulkhead some voices were raised in argument and then died away just as quickly.

He added, “Your behaviour, were you now in port, would make you eligible for court-martial.” He saw the shot go home. The sudden clenching of Brice’s fingers. “Surely after the affair at Spithead you should have taken some heed of their requirements? Good God, man, they deserve justice if nothing else.”

Brice regarded him angrily. “They got what they deserved.”

Bolitho recalled Taylor’s words. An unhappy ship. It was not difficult to imagine the hell this man must have made her.

“Then I cannot help you.”

Brice’s eyes gleamed with sudden malice. “They’ll never allow you to leave the ship now!”

“Perhaps not.” Bolitho stood up and walked to the opposite side. “But there will be a mist in the bay at dawn. When it clears your ship will be facing something more than words and threats. I have no doubt that your people will fight no matter what the odds, for by then it will be too late for second thoughts, too late for compromise.”

Brice said, “I hope I see them die!”

“I doubt that, Captain. In afterlife maybe. For you and I will be dangling high enough for the best view of all.”

“They wouldn’t dare!” But Brice sounded less sure now.

“Would they not?” Bolitho leaned across the table until they were only two feet apart. “You have tormented them beyond all reason, have acted more like a demented fiend than a King’s officer.” He reached out and tore the epaulette from Brice’s shoulder and threw it on the table, his face stiff with anger. “How dare you talk of what they can or cannot do under such handling? Were you one of my officers I would have had you broken long before you could bring disgrace to the commission entrusted to you!” He stood back, his heart pumping against his ribs. “Make no mistake, Captain Brice, if your ship does escape to be given to the enemy, you were better dead anyway. The shame will otherwise grip you tighter than any damned halter, believe me!”