Once clear of the land Broughton had decided to start putting his ships through their paces, to check the flaws and draw out the varied qualities or otherwise of his new command.

Bolitho darted another glance towards him, wondering what new complaints or suggestions would come out of his inspection.

In any flagship a captain was constantly aware of his admiral’s presence, must allow for every mood or whim and somehow work it into his own scheme for running a routine without confusion. And yet he was surprised to find that he still knew Broughton hardly at all. He seemed to run his daily life by the clock with very little deviation. Breakfast at eight, dinner at half past two and supper at nine. Exactly at nine o’clock each forenoon he would come on deck and behave just as he was doing now. If anything, he appeared too rigid, and not merely in his habits.

The first day at sea, for instance, he had put his battle tactics into immediate operation. But unlike usual practice, he had retained the Euryalus at third place in the line, with only the one remaining seventy-four, the Valorous, stationed astern.

While the ships had tacked and floundered in a quarter sea to obey his curt signals Broughton had remarked, “One must study the captains just as much as the ships they command.”

Bolitho grasped immediately what he meant and had appreciated the sense of it.

It was pointless in some actions to have the most powerful ship, the one flying the admiral’s flag in particular, crashing headlong into the enemy’s line. She could be disabled and rendered useless when she was most needed, when the admiral had the time and information to know of the enemy’s intentions.

Without using a glass he could see the leading ships quite easily, keeping the same positions that Broughton had ordered from the outset. Leading the line, and almost hidden by the straining topsails and forecourse of the next astern, was the two-decker Zeus. She was an elderly seventy-four, a veteran of the Glorious First of June, St Vincent and several smaller actions. Her captain, Robert Rattray, had been in command for three years and was known for his aggressive behaviour in battle, a bulldog tenacity which showed clearly on his square, weathered face. Exactly the kind of captain to take the first searing crash of a broadside when testing the enemy’s line. A seasoned, professional seaman, but with little else in his head but a strong sense of duty and a desire to do battle.

Captain Falcon of the Tanais, the second seventy-four, was quite the opposite. A mournful, untidy-looking man, with hooded, thoughtful eyes, he would be one to follow without question, but would use his imagination as well as his training to explore Rattray’s first approach.

About a mile astern of the Euryalus was the last in the line, the Valorous. Commanded by Captain Rodney Furneaux, a tight-lipped and haughty autocrat, she had proved to be a fast and manoeuvrable vessel under nearly all circumstances, and provided she could maintain her station would be well placed to protect the flagship or run down to assist any of her consorts if they got into difficulties.