He was feeling Auriga’s shame like his own, and all these empty-headed puppies could talk about was their own blameless part in it.

Allday strode towards Bolitho, hardly realising that his feet had started to move. He saw Bolitho halt, the swift anger in his eyes at being disturbed.

“What is it?” The voice was cold, but Allday was undeterred.

“I was just thinking, Captain.” He paused, gauging the moment. “The Frogs have just got a British frigate, but not by force of arms.”

“Well?” He sounded dangerously calm.

Allday grinned. “I was just looking around while all that was going on.” The grin got wider. “Now this three-decker, for instance. I seem to remember we took her together without too much difficulty in the face of some very angry Frogs.”

Bolitho glared at him. “That is a damn stupid comparison to make! If you can think of nothing more useful to say then be good enough to get out of my sight!” His voice was loud enough to make several heads turn in their direction.

Allday walked slowly away, hopeful and at the same time afraid that he had for once mistimed his attempt to help.

Bolitho’s voice halted him.

“Now that you mention it, Allday.” Bolitho dropped his eyes as the other man turned towards him. “It was a fine prize. And still is. Thank you for reminding me. It was wrong I should forget what British seamen can do.”

Allday glanced at the silent lieutenants and smiled gently before sauntering back to his place by the poop ladder.

Bolitho’s voice broke the silence again.

“Very well, Mr Keverne, you may pipe the lower battery to quarters and exercise the crews now that the ports are no longer awash.”

He paused and looked over the nettings so that Keverne had to hurry forward to hear the rest of his words. Even then he was not sure if he was meant to listen.

Bolitho said quietly, “We will meet again, my friend. And things may be a little different.”

* * *

Eighteen days after seeing the Auriga strike her colours to the enemy, Broughton’s squadron dropped anchor at Gibraltar. Due to the loss of time incurred at the start of the voyage while the admiral had exercised the ships in his plan of battle, the arrival beneath the Rock’s great shadow was even later than Bolitho had anticipated. They had been beset by constantly shifting winds, and once when some ninety miles west of Lisbon had been forced to ride out a storm of such swift and savage intensity that the Zeus had lost six men overboard. And yet the very next day had found all the ships floating helplessly in a dead calm, their sails flat and devoid of any movement while the sun made the daily routine almost unbearable.

Now, with awnings rigged and gunports open to a lazy offshore breeze, the squadron rested beneath the afternoon glare, their boats plying back and forth to the land like busy water-beetles.