As Bolitho turned to leave he added, “There will be a conference here immediately the punishment is completed. Make a signal for all captains to repair on board,” he took out his watch, “but I can leave that for you to arrange, I think. I have been invited to join a local magistrate for dinner. A man called Roxby, know him?”

“My brother-in-law, sir.” His voice was like stone.

“Really?” Broughton walked towards his sleeping cabin. “You people seem to be everywhere.” The door slammed behind him.

Bolitho reached the quarterdeck without seeing a foot of the journey. The shadows were more angled and the sun already dipping towards the headland. A few seamen lounged on the gangways, and from forward came the plaintive notes of a violin. The officer of the watch crossed to the opposite side to allow Bolitho his usual seclusion, and beside the boat tier two midshipmen were shrilling with laughter as they chased each other towards the main shrouds.

Bolitho leaned his hands on the bulwark and stared unblinkingly at the orange sun. He did not feel like pacing this evening, and wherever he turned he seemed to see Taylor’s face, the pathetic gratitude at receiving two dozen lashes, changing to horror at the final sentence. He would be down below now, hearing the midshipmen laughing and the fiddler’s sad lament. Maybe it was for him. If so, Broughton’s cruel example had already misfired, he thought bitterly.

He shifted his gaze to the Auriga as she swung gently at her cable. Some would say that Taylor’s punishment was a worthwhile sacrifice of one man against so many. But for Bolitho’s action every man aboard might have been flogged or worse, or the ship could indeed have been lost to the enemy.

But there were others who would say that whatever the outcome, the course of naval justice would never be found by flogging scapegoats. And Bolitho knew Taylor was one of these, and was ashamed because of it.

* * *

Bolitho was staring emptily through the great stern windows of his cabin when Allday entered and said, “All ready, Captain.”

Without waiting for a reply he took down the old sword from its rack on the panelled bulkhead and turned it over in his hands, pausing to rub the tarnished hilt across the sleeve of his jacket.

Then he said quietly, “You did your best, Captain. There’s no value in blaming yourself.”

Bolitho held up his arms to allow the big coxswain to buckle the sword around his waist and then let them fall to his sides. Through the thick glass windows he could see the distant town swinging gently as wind and tide took the Euryalus under control. He was again aware of the silence which had fallen over the whole ship since Keverne had come down to report that the lower decks were cleared and that it was close on eight bells.

He picked up his hat and glanced briefly around the cabin. It should have been a good day for quitting the land. A fair breeze had sprung up from the south-west overnight and the air was clean and crisp.