There was still no sign of the Coquette, nor might there be for some time yet. She could be investigating some strange sail well astern of the squadron. Equally she might be in serious trouble with an enemy.

Calvert appeared on the quarterdeck, his face screwed up with both worry and strain in the sun’s brightness.

He said, “Sir Lucius sends his compliments, sir. Will you join him in his day cabin.”

Bolitho glanced at Keverne, who turned his mouth down and said, “Perhaps there is a change of plan, sir?”

Bolitho strode after Calvert’s hurrying shape, wondering if Keverne was implying resentment at knowing so little. Like himself. When he entered the cabin it took his eyes several seconds to get accustomed to the gloom, the comparative coolness after the unprotected quarterdeck.

Draffen was seated beside the desk, although Bolitho had not even seen him leave the poop.

“Sir?” He saw Broughton standing by an open stern window, his light brown hair glossy in the reflected glare. Far astern, the Valorous held rigidly to her tack, so that she appeared like some elaborate model, balanced on the admiral’s epaulette.

Broughton snapped, “I have asked you down here to explain further to Sir Hugo the necessity of keeping the Restless in company and within signalling distance! He breathed out hard. “Well?”

Bolitho thrust his hands behind him. In the presence of the admiral and Draffen, both of whom were impeccably dressed as before, he felt suddenly unkempt and dirty. He could feel the tension between the two men, and guessed they had been arguing before his arrival.

Draffen interrupted evenly, “I must find my agent, Captain. The sloop is fast and small enough for the purpose.” He shrugged. “I can say no fairer than that, now can I?”

Bolitho tensed. They were both drawing on him, each using his opinion to make him an ally. Never before had Broughton asked for his opinion on matters of strategy. And although Draffen had displayed an easy confidence after their first meeting, he had given away little of his intentions.

Bolitho said, “May I ask, Sir Hugo, what manner of ship we are expecting to meet?”

Draffen shifted in his chair. “Oh, something small. Probably an Arab trader or suchlike.” He sounded vague. Or evasive.

Bolitho persisted. “And if we miss meeting her, what then?”.

The admiral swung away from the window, his tone sharp. “I am expected to keep this squadron beating back and forth for another week!” He glared at Draffen. “A week of avoiding open battle, of countless alterations of course!

“I know all that, Sir Lucius.” Draffen remained unmoved. “But this business demands great tact and caution.” His tone hardened. “As well as the efficient running of your ships.”

Bolitho stepped forward, “I can understand your concern, Sir Hugo.” He was very conscious of being in between these two powerful and unyielding men. Outside of the Navy he had had little contact with such people, and blamed himself for failing to understand them, to appreciate their worlds, each so different from his own.