He said harshly, “It was my decision, sir. There was no one else here at the time . . .”

Broughton yelled, “Do not interrupt me, Bolitho! By God, it might have been better if you had attacked the Auriga and blown her to pieces. If they have officers like you at the Nore, then heaven help England!”

He snatched his sword and clipped it into his belt, adding, “Well, we shall see about mutiny in this squadron.”

Bolitho controlled his voice with an effort. I am sorry you cannot accept my judgement, sir.”

“Judgement?” Broughton looked at him. “I call it surrender.” He shrugged and reached for his hat. “I cannot right a wrong, but by heaven I’ll show them I’ll have no insubordination in my ships!”

He threw open the door and strode into the great cabin.

“Be seated, gentlemen.” He took his place in the centre chair and gestured to Bolitho to sit beside him. “Now, gentlemen, I have called this summary court by the authority invested in me which has been given special powers until such time as the present emergency has been curtailed.”

Bolitho looked quickly at the others. Their faces were like masks. They were probably dazed by the swift change of events and wondering how it would affect them personally.

Broughton seemed to be speaking to the opposite bulkhead, his voice even and under control once again. “The ringleader of the Auriga’s insurrection was one Thomas Gates, captain’s clerk. He was, er, allowed to escape, and will no doubt be responsible with others for the death of the courier and seizure of my sealed despatches.”

The air in the cabin was stiff with tension, so that shipboard noises seemed suddenly loud and unreal.

Broughton continued calmly, “The master’s mate,” he glanced at a paper before him, “one John Taylor, at present under guard for conspiracy, is thereby the senior culprit available to this court.”

“May I speak, sir?” Bolitho’s voice made every head turn towards him. For just those few seconds he saw the others as individuals, the differing expressions mirrored in their eyes. Sympathy, understanding, from one even amusement.

He shut them out of his thoughts as he continued quietly, “Taylor was one of many, sir. He came to me because he trusted me.”

Broughton turned to study him, his eyes distant. “Two of his companions have already laid evidence against him as the ring-leader, next to Gates.” For an instant his gaze softened with something like compassion. “They could be getting even with Taylor for deposing their leader. They might equally be just and loyal seamen.” His mouth hardened. “That is no longer my concern. This squadron is, and I intend to see it fulfils whatever duty laid upon it without interference.” He let his gaze lock with Bolitho’s. “From anyone.”

Then he rapped the table with his knuckles. “Bring in the prisoner.”

Bolitho sat quite still as Taylor entered between two marines with Captain Giffard marching stiffly at his back. He looked pale but composed, and as he saw Bolitho his face lit up with sudden recognition.