Bolitho realised with a start that Draffen was looking up at him, his eyes very still and intent.

“Do you know it, Captain?”

“By reputation, sir. Once the lair of Barbary pirates, I believe. A good natural harbour, and little else.”

Draffen smiled, but his eyes were still unblinking. “The Dons seized it some years ago to protect their own coast trade. Now that they are allied to the French its harbour may be seen in another light entirely.”

Rattray asked gruffly, “As a base, sir?”

“Maybe.” Draffen straightened his back. “But my agents have reported some comings and goings from Cartagena. It would be well if our re-entry to the Mediterranean was given a purpose, something positive.” He tapped the chart again. “Your admiral knows what is expected of him, but I will tell you now that I intend to see our flag over Djafou, and without too much delay.”

In the sudden silence Broughton said stiffly, “My squadron is under strength, sir.” He glanced away and added, “However, if you think . . .”

Draffen nodded firmly. “Indeed I do think, Sir Lucius. I have made arrangements for bomb vessels from Lisbon. They will be here within a day or so.” His tone hardened. “If the fleet at Spithead and the Nore had been less concerned with their own domestic affairs I daresay your squadron would be fifteen or even twenty sail-of-the-line instead of four.” He shrugged. “And having only one frigate now . . .” He shrugged again, dismissing it. “But that remains your own concern.” He snapped his fingers. “Now, I suggest a toast, so get that servant in here.” He grinned at their mixed expressions. “After that, there will be plenty to do.”

He looked again at Bolitho. “You say very little, Captain.”

Broughton snapped, “I will instruct my flag captain in my own way, if you please, Sir Hugo.”

“As it should be.” Draffen remained smiling. “However, I will be joining the squadron for some of the time.” He took a glass from the servant, adding, “Just to ensure that your way is also mine, eh?”

Bolitho turned away, his mind already busy with Draffen’s brisk but extremely sparse information.

It was good news indeed to know that British ships would be attacking the southern approaches of Bonaparte’s growing empire once again. To take and hold a new and strategically placed base for the fleet was a plan of both skill and imagination.

But if on the other hand Broughton’s squadron was being used merely as a cat’s-paw, a means to make the enemy withdraw forces back to the Mediterranean on a large scale, things might go badly for all of them.

There was no doubting Draffen’s authority, although what his exact status was remained a mystery. Maybe the news had already reached him of a worsening situation at the Nore. The sacrifice of this small squadron to ease enemy pressure around the Channel ports would seem no worse than Taylor’s death had measured with Broughton himself.