Brice had stood quite still in his cabin, his hat beneath his arm, his pale eyes avoiding Bolitho’s until he had finished.

Then he had said softly, “Vice-Admiral Broughton does not accept that there was a mutiny. Neither, sir, did you when you came aboard my ship. The fact that I am being returned to my rightful command surely proves that whatever wrongs were committed were by others.” He had smiled slightly. “One who escaped, and the other who was treated with more leniency than might be expected in these dangerous times.”

Bolitho had walked around the table, feeling the other man’s hate behind the mask of quiet amusement, knowing his own feelings were little better.

“Now hear my words, Brice, and remember them. We are going on a special mission, maybe an important one for England. You will do well to change your ways if you wish to see your home-land again.”

Brice had stiffened. “There’ll be no more uprisings in my ship, sir!”

Bolitho had forced a smile. “I was not referring to your own people. If you betray your trust once more, I will personally see that you are brought to a court-martial, and that you receive the justice you so obviously enjoy imposing on others!”

Bolitho walked to the nettings and glanced down at the water leaping against the tall side. The squadron was about one hundred miles north-west of Cape Ortegal, the very corner of Spain. If ships had minds of their own, would Euryalus be remembering it too? he wondered. It was here that she fought under the French flag against Bolitho’s old Hyperion. Where her decks ran scarlet and the battle raged without let-up until its grisly conclusion. But maybe ships did not care after all. Men died, crying for half-remembered wives and children, for mothers, or for their comrades in hell. Others lived on in a maimed existence ashore, forgotten by the sea and avoided by many of those who could have helped them.

But the ships sailed on, impatient perhaps with the fools who manned them.

“Sir! Zeus is signalling!” The midshipman of the watch was suddenly galvanised into action. He jumped into the shrouds, his big telescope already to his eye. “Zeus to Flag. Strange sail bearing nor’ west.” He looked down at Bolitho, his face shining with excitement.

Bolitho nodded. “Excellent, Mr Tothill. That was quickly done.” He glanced round and saw Keverne hurrying towards him. The signal probably meant nothing, but after drills and dragging uncertainty any sort of change was welcome. It had swept his other thoughts away like cobwebs.

“Sir?” Keverne eyed him intently.

“Dismiss the hands from drills and prepare to set the t’gallants on her.” He looked aloft, his eyes watering in the crisp breeze. “The royals too if the wind gets no worse.”

As he hurried away Broughton reappeared on the quarterdeck, his face very calm.

Bolitho said, “Sail to the nor’ west, sir.” He saw the brightness in the admiral’s eyes and guessed how hard it was for him to appear so controlled.