Bolitho had a sudden mental picture of Broughton’s face when he had requested him to give Zeus permission to chase the Frenchman. Of his plan of battle, his apparent mistrust of anything untried or smelling of unorthodox methods.

He said, “I only hope we are not too late and that the French have not enlarged the defences at Djafou.”

Draffen looked round quickly and then said, “I have certain influence, connections if you like, and I do not intend you should have to rely entirely on luck and personal bravery. I know the Algerian coast well, and its people, who for the most part are both murderous and completely untrustworthy.” The smile returned. “But we will use what we can, and make the best of it. As John Paul Jones said under very similar circumstances, ‘If we cannot have what we like, we must learn to like what we have!’ ”

He thrust out his hand. “I must go and see some people ashore now. No doubt we will be meeting again very shortly.”

Bolitho watched him climb down into his boat and then joined Inch by the bulwark.

Inch said, “A strange man, sir. Very deep.”

“I believe so. He wields a good deal of power, nevertheless.”

Inch sighed. “He was telling me earlier about the place where we are going. He seems well versed in details.” He shook his head. “Yet I can find hardly anything about it.”

Bolitho nodded thoughtfully. Trade, but what sort of trade would anyone find in a place like Djafou? And where was the connection with the Caribbean and his meeting with Hugh?

He said, “I must return to my ship. We will talk more at dinner, although there are no familiar faces for you to see, I am afraid.”

Inch grinned, “Except Allday, sir. I cannot imagine you without him!”

Bolitho clapped his bony shoulder. “And neither can I!”

Later, as he stood alone in his cabin, Bolitho opened his shirt and toyed with the small locket, his eyes unseeing, as he stared through the stern windows. Inch would never guess how much his arrival had meant to him. Like the locket, something to hold on to, something familiar. One of his old Hyperions.

There was a tap at the door and Calvert entered nervously, holding some papers before him as if for protection.

Bolitho smiled. “Be seated. I will sign them, and you may distribute them to the squadron before dusk.”

Calvert did not hide his relief as Bolitho sat at the desk and reached for a pen. Bolitho’s action saved him from having to face Broughton when he came offshore. His eyes fell on Bolitho’s sword lying on the bench seat where he had put it when he returned from seeing the Hekla.

In spite of all his caution he said, “Oh I say, sir, may I look at it?”

Bolitho stared at him. It was unlike Calvert to say much, other than mutter excuses for his mistakes. His eyes were positively shining with sudden interest.